


Honor Of Gentleman

by beyondinsane



Category: American Idol RPF, Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 83,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondinsane/pseuds/beyondinsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the spring of 1805, two regency gentlemen find solace in each other's company. Solace becomes desire, and desire changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth In The Telling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairfax_Verde](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fairfax_Verde).



> Author's Notes: This is the first part of a five part story set in Regency England. A time of decadence &amp; changing social mores, the British Regency immediately preceded the Victorian Era. Many feel that the excesses of the time helped to bring upon the drastic conservatism of the Victorian age. It's not scary! If you have questions, just ask.
> 
> This story is written in dialect, or at least as close as I can accomplish. You will see some spellings that do not look familiar. I'd encourage people that enjoy combing fic for spelling errors ton consult a British dictionary. (Though I am sure I still have errors. It is, after all, me. :P)
> 
> A note on FAITH: In order to place Adam in the upper crust of British society, the Lamberts had to be Christian. Sorry about your foreskin, Adam.
> 
> Dedication: To fairfax_verde , who won my auction for donorschoose.org. Without her generosity, this would have never been written, and without her patience, it wouldn't be nearly as good.
> 
> The first sentence of the work is from Pride &amp; Prejudice by Jane Austen, which has passed into common use due to its age. However, it works so well as as a starting point I just had to borrow it. TY, Jane.
> 
> I would be remiss if I did not mention my remarkable Beta team, almostkind27 and bamberrific . Bamberrific also provided Brit-picking, as she is an ACTUAL FAX British person. How Quaint!
> 
> Also, there is a bit of a cross-over as I borrowed two characters and a ship from CS Forrester and the Hornblower TV series. Don't worry, it's not a true crossover and you don't need to know ANYTHING about Hornblower at all. I promise.
> 
> As usual, no slander or offense intended, no ownership implied of any of the real people/characters herein.

    It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife. Yet the acquisition of a wife was certainly the furthest thing from Adam Lambert’s mind as his carriage took him further and further from the city he had learned to call home. In fact, if he thought of anything at all, it was that he was done with affairs of the heart altogether. Though marriage did not always have to be a romantic endeavour, if there was one thing Adam disdained more than plunging headlong into another romance it was the intimate company of a woman. In spite of all the universally acknowledged country wisdom, Adam knew the truth of his own desires – and they had nothing to do with taking a wife.

    Adam’s melancholy had nothing to do with the city he was leaving behind. Indeed, he felt nothing when he left London. He sang none of her songs, mourned not the loss of Drury Lane nor Vauxhall, ached not for the pleasures of Red Brick Lane. For years, he had been among the city's great patrons, at least of some of her more avant garde residents. For years, he had funded more productions, lined the pockets of haberdashers and hatters, and introduced some of the season's most gossiped-about romances.

     That was over now. Now his carriage bore him home, to Heathwick and her low swelling hills, her sleepy village, her long-forgotten rooms and neglected gardens. His home by birthright, his burden by choice, Adam had not been to his family home in Yorkshire since his parents' untimely death whilst on holiday in Jersey. They had loved the country in a way Adam had not, could not, especially now that everything there reminded him of what a happy family they had once been. How he had endless summers of horseback riding, of dancing lessons and socials; winters of singing while his brother, Neil, accompanied him on the pianoforte, of drinking hot chocolate with the children of the servants and sleigh rides on Christmas eve. After the accident, he had vowed to leave Heathwick and never return. However, more recent events made staying in London even more untenable than returning home to face those particular ghosts. Adam sighed and slumped against the wall of the carriage, trying to get more comfortable.

  
     Even the ache he normally associated with missing his family failed to pull at the strings of his heart as he glanced out the window, watching London grow ever smaller as the sun set behind the dome of St. Paul's, rendering the landmark evermore picturesque. When one took ill, it was fashionable to retreat to the country; so Adam knew he was not alone in his self-imposed exile. But unlike the coterie of unwed expectant mothers and handful of those who suffered from gout; Adam knew he was not likely to return to London. In fact, he had set all his will against it.

     The chimes of the cathedral rang out her merry tune, and at last Adam awoke inside. The music of it, even the simple tune meant to thank God for the gift of an hour, was torture. For five years, music had only one name; Mr. Bradley Bell. There it was again, a stab of pain in his gut as he thought that name; a name which, like music, had once brought him incomprehensible joy. Of all his great friends in the city, Bradley had been his most constant. He had been more than a friend; he had been his inspiration, his raison d' etre, his lover.

     Thoughts of Bradley, naked and unashamed, mixed with memories of their last parting and Adam felt as though he could scarcely breathe. He pulled a tin flask from his greatcoat pocket and took a long, heady drink of the scotch he had allowed himself for the journey. Adam shook the flask - he would need to refill it; as it was a long trip. No matter - the English countryside was dotted with inns and taverns. It would be charming to visit some of them. Indeed, he was to meet with his family's lawyer and executor tomorrow at Cambridge to attend to the transfer of his residence from London to Heathwick and the increase in expenditure so that his brother, Neil, might purchase a commission, having at last reached the age of majority.

    This cost would be somewhat offset by the dowry for his forthcoming marriage; Neil had made himself a fine match. His prospects and his wit had made him an attractive candidate to several of the county's most eligible females, including several that had finally given up on Adam himself. Neil had only been too happy to insinuate that Adam would be remaining a bachelor and that he would ever be Adam's heir. Adam was happy that his younger brother had his pick of women. He had considered taking a wife himself to keep up appearances, but in London no one had seemed to care that he preferred men to women. Perhaps that happy social indifference would be absent in the country; he would have to be less overt outside of London. The thought made Adam shudder. It wasn’t so much that woman disgusted him; several of his close friends were women. He had even experimentally kissed a few to find that he liked it. Kissing was a natural extension of friendship amongst the enlightened minds of London who were his contemporaries and friends. Yet, when it came to anything further or to any true blending of the spirit, there really had only ever been Bradley. Bradley on stage, powdered and costumed. Bradley singing in the morning, eyes sharp and seductive and amused at everything around him. Bradley spread out on his bed, beneath him but always in control. It hadn’t always been wonderful. In fact, most times it had been downright difficult. Adam thoughtfully took another drink of scotch, emptying his flask. That hadn’t taken long, he thought, pocketing the empty container and returning to his musing.

     Unsurprisingly his mind wandered back to Bradley, to their last night together. Adam could tell it was goodbye from the look in his eyes, the anticipation of the moment they would part. There had been those among their circle that had forewarned him about Bradley, about how he would latch on to a well-to-do man and suddenly all the funding problems for his theatrical ventures seemed to disappear. Adam had stubbornly told himself that this was different; that Brad was a changed man. However, in their third year together he felt that Bradley’s interest had begun to wane and before long someone with more money came along; a lord’s son. He was younger than Adam, too, and prettier. Adam had seen them talking in Vauxhall, Bradley brushing his arm casually and looking hopefully into the other man’s eyes. He had confronted Bradley about it, but Brad had brushed him off, dismissing him as jealous and foolish. Adam had believed him in spite of the growing whispers amidst their friends that something more was afoot. Even after Bradley had broken their relationship off, Adam had been determined to remain in London amid their close circle of friends, but it only took one performance to change his mind. It broke his heart to see Brad singing his heart out on stage, singing for his little Lordling. Adam had decided that very night that perhaps a change of scene would benefit him. A return home.

 

***

 

    KRISTOPHER Allen took Katherine’s delicate, gloved hand and stepped lightly in time to the music. She waltzed beautifully; it was almost as if she could float. He was proud, in that moment, that all the eyes in the room were on her, and soon she would be his. Pride was a sin, and Kristopher tried not to dwell on it, but perhaps such small errors could be overlooked. He was finally going to ask her for her hand in marriage, after months of convincing her father that he was worthy of her. Her father had consented but had then whisked Katy off to London for a holiday, robbing Kris of any proposal opportunities. However, upon her return her father had been kind enough to throw her a homecoming party, and Kris was determined to ask her this evening.

“Mister Allen” She said, looking him in the eyes as she crossed in front of him and changed hands, slightly bobbing with one foot behind the other. “Would you like to take a walk outside?”

Kris’s jaw dropped. Katy was never this forward. Surely she didn’t mean unchaperoned?

“I think we could slip out the servant’s entrance.” She continued on her next pass. “Just nod if you’ll agree. I know it’s improper-“

    Kris cut her off with a nod and tried to study the look on her face. Her smile could set his heart ablaze, but she had no smile for him tonight. She was so lovely: blonde hair and green eyes, a dimpled grin and fair complexion…Kris listed off her features as a poet might. He had, in fact, written her several poems but had dismissed them all as not worthy. They had grown up in the same town, and though her family was of a much higher station, they would dance together as often as propriety would allow. Every social event of the season would be another excuse to see her, try and win her affections. Kris knew he shouldn’t be nervous. Why, Katherine had hinted at making a life together often enough that their engagement seemed a natural conclusion. Yet there was something in her face that worried him.

After the song ended, she disappeared and Kris waited a few moments before following.

“Best of luck, Kristopher.” His brother, Daniel clasped him on the back. Kris nodded at him and started across the room. Daniel had been recently married himself, and his wife Eleanor was expecting their first child. Kristopher wondered if he, too, would be so quick to start a family. The thought formed a tight little ball in his throat. Of course, Katy was beautiful, and Kris knew what activities were necessary to have a baby. His father had explained, and of course Daniel had bragged about his various conquests even before Eleanor. He’d never so much as kissed Katy. She had given him her glove however, and he had kissed that once before tucking it in his wardrobe. Kris felt himself growing ever more anxious as he wove through the crowd.

    At last he made it through the small door and out into the rear garden. Katy was standing amidst the night-blooming flowers, elegant in her simple gown. Her hair was caught up so that only a single curl fell from its binding. She looked stunning and suddenly Kristopher understood why her father had been so reluctant to give his permission. There was no way he could be worthy of her, not ever. Even so, he had to try. Kristopher walked towards her, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Miss O’Connell.” He whispered. “Katy, if I may-“

“Of course you may. We’ve been good friends for many years, haven’t we?” She was smiling now, but it was a pressed, difficult-looking smile.

“We have. In fact, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that.” Kris stammered a bit, looking toward the moon momentarily. It was easier than looking at her.

“I hope we’ll remain good friends for many years to come.” Katy continued as if she had not heard him. “Perhaps our children will play together as we once did.”

Kris was confused. It was terribly forward of Katy to talk about having children together before they were even engaged. He frowned slightly.

"Our children?" Kristopher finally stammered. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Not _our_ children” Katy stammered, blushing. “I meant our respective children, of course.” Kris gave her another bewildered look and she glanced around nervously. “I know you spoke to my father before we departed for London." Katy continued, clearly distraught. "Of course he didn't mention it until it was too late."

Kris felt his hopes sink like a stone tossed into a pond.

"Too late?" Kris repeated. "But I haven't even asked you-"

"I met a man in London. I should say, we were introduced. He's heir to the largest estate in Yorkshire. He, well he spoke to father and my parents...they thought it would be a good match."

"I...I had spoken to your father...I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but Katy – I thought you knew. Surely you knew."

"Kristopher. You know that I hold you in the greatest esteem. But my parents told me he is afforded 800 pounds a year. Can you imagine such a sum? I'd be able to make sure they are well taken care of. It would mean better social arrangements for my sisters. I'd be able to make charitable donations, put some of that fortune to good use." Katy swallowed hard. "My parents thought it would be for the best, Father decided-"

"That you should marry some swell you don't even know because his pockets are well-lined?"

"Kristopher, he is a good man. His family is socially impeccable, save for his elder brother, but-"

"You don't even know him. Katherine...Katy." Kris's voice was soft, pleading. He took a step closer to her and gently placed his hand on her arm. "What of the plans we spoke of? My studies are almost complete and I am set to take my vows next week. We were going to find a small parish out in the country that had need of a pastor and we-"

At this, Katy brightened.

"That is the good news, Kristopher. Heathwick is large enough that it has a parish of its own. The church is attended by farmers and the townspeople from the surrounding villages. Neil mentioned that their pastor had recently been called to Heaven and I mentioned you. He... he spoke to the Bishop and if you'd like it, the church would be yours. The parsonage too, it's located on the grounds of the manor. Neil - my fiancé, his brother purchased him a commission in the Army so he will be away much of the time. He thought it would be nice for me to have a friend close by. Perhaps, if you took a wife, she and I could be good friends as well."

Kris's mind was reeling. He had always dreamed of a parish of his own and had thought it would be years before he attained that dream. The dream had always included her as his wife, however, and the idea of having her so close at hand yet out of his grasp was difficult to bear.

"I must say, my heart is...Katy I thought we had an understanding. If you really intend to marry this stranger I must confess my disappointment."

"Please, Kristopher. I feel as though this is the best way forward. I have always thought you would be part of my life. Nothing has changed other than the role I thought you would play. Accept the posting.”

Kris blinked back tears. Good God, he couldn’t cry. Not in front of Katy. He turned away for a moment, trying to breathe deeply. It was this motion that enabled him to see a tall, dark haired man walking towards them in the moonlight.

“Are you here, my love?” the man asked and broke into a bit of a trot when he saw Katy, obviously eager to be at her side.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Allen. “ The man bowed slightly, and Kris returned the gesture. “Katy’s told me so much about you. I do hope you’ll accept the posting. We do so need a man of your conviction, especially with my elder brother returning. He’s been in London so long he’s practically a heathen!” Neil laughed at his own joke, winking at Kris as to show he was kidding.

“We really must be getting inside, my love.” Neil continued, kissing Katy’s hand lightly. “Your father wants to make the announcement.” He turned back to Kris, bowing again. “I’m sorry, you must think me terribly rude. I’m Neil Lambert, of Heathwick. Miss O’Connell’s intended. “

“Ah, no. Not at all.” Kris stammered, bobbing his head in return.

“Katy’s spoken so fondly of you. She tells me you’ve been like a brother to her. I hope we shall be like brothers too. The parsonage is lovely – very close to the main house. Why, when Pastor Robbins died I wept for a week. I practically grew up at his knee. The old man taught me how to play rugby, if you can believe it. I’ll bet you’re a rugger. You’ve got the makings of a fair scrum half.” Neil gestured towards the house and Kris walked next to him, Katy his other arm demurely.”

“I, ah… No. Well, yes I’ve played but not regularly enough to have a position.”

“A shame I’ll be off for Spain so soon. Why, we’ll barely have time to get settled before I have to leave again. If I had longer we could organize a match; get all the local lads in for a weekend. What a lark!” Neil seemed to be an amiable fellow, but Kris could tell he was trying to draw Kris into conversation. Perhaps he wanted to see if he refuted Katy’s claim that her affections towards him were sisterly. No matter the case, Kris tried to steer the conversation away from the wedding. Inspiration struck.

“Does your brother play?” Kris asked suddenly, remembering that Neil was the heir to Heathwick, not the owner. “That is, is your brother often at Heathwick?”

“Adam lives in London, and no-“ Neil chuckled and dropped his voice low, leaning closer to Kris “-he doesn’t play rugby. But the lads about town tell me he’s not one to turn down a scrum. If you follow.” It took Kris a moment and a suggestive arch in Neil’s brow, but after a moment spent reflecting on the proximity and position of rugby players engaged in a scrum, he did indeed follow. Neil was implying that his elder brother was a sodomite, if Kris was reading him correctly. It would certainly explain why Neil was to inherit rather than any future offspring of the elder Lambert brother.

“Once Katy and I start a family, my allowance will double. Since Adam refuses to take up residence at Heathwick, it was always our agreement that I would raise my family there. As mother and father are no longer with us, there’s no one to force him to marry – so he’s decided he won’t. Stroke of luck for me – I doubt pretty Kate over here would have given me a second look without Heathwick.” Neil kissed her on the cheek as she swatted him good-naturedly.

“Neil!” She chided him, giggling.

“I jest, my love. Your kindness and generosity would of course lead you to take pity on such a humble specimen as myself. A creature of your loveliness would be wasted on a fellow like Kristopher here, who is not homely enough to appreciate what beauty looks like. Why, he can see it in the mirror – why look elsewhere?”

“Neil!” Katy said again, laughing openly now, a joyous sound that made Kris’s heart ache. _He makes her happy _Kris realized, smiling a little wistfully.

“Oh come now, Mr. Allen. Do let’s be friends.” Neil said, smile fading a little when Kris did not join in the laughter. “I hope I didn’t cause offense. Katy will tell you, I always run on at the mouth. It’s a dreadful habit, but she does encourage it. I shall have to be very firm with her. Perhaps, as our liaison to the Almighty, you can intercede on my behalf? ‘Dear Lord, please grant strength to my dear friend Neil Lambert so that he doesn’t act up to impress his intended i I n front of her old friends.’”

Kris couldn’t help but join in the laughter this time, and Neil patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Please Kristopher, do say a prayer for me.” Katy asked, wiping a tear as she came down from her fit of laughter. “I fear I shall need them.”

“I will.” Kristopher promised. “ Might I have a moment with your intended, Mr. Lambert? If that won’t strain the bonds of our new acquaintance?”

“Of course, my good man. I am sure you have a lot to discuss to plan the ceremony. You’ll be officiating, of course. Comes with the territory. Ah! Now you see my ulterior motive!” Neil bowed again, offering Kris a rakish grin before heading into back into the O’Connell residence.

Katy stood in silence a moment, looking at Kristopher sadly. Kris took a deep breath, unsure of what had just transpired. He only knew that he had come outside intending to propose and was coming back inside having agreed to marry the woman of his dreams – to another man.

“I do wish you every happiness, Katy.” Kris started. “I just wish that it were me.” He said softly, before shaking his head to clear the thought. “No matter. It’s for the best, as you say. And I wouldn’t stand in the way of your future. I shall be satisfied as to my part in it, as best I can.”

“Oh, Kristopher.” Katy closed the gap between them and embraced him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know and by the time I did – “

“Do not worry yourself on my account. He is a good man. I can tell.”

“That means very much to me, Kristopher. I treasure your good opinion.”

“May it long be so.” Kris took her hand and kissed it gently. “But I believe you have an announcement to make, and I should let you return to your guests.” He said, turning her towards the door.

“Aren’t you coming inside?”

“I believe I shall walk home. Would you be a dear and send Daniel after me?”

Her face fell somewhat, but she nodded.

“Of course. Goodnight, Kristopher.”

“Goodnight, Miss O’Connell.” He said, returning to formality and relishing the few opportunities to use her maiden name that he had left. He watched her enter her house before departing, making his way through the back garden to his family’s land by moonlight.

“Guide me.” He implored the heavens, though there was no earthy direction he sought. He could have made his way home in pitch-blackness. No, Kris prayed for a new north by which to aim the compass of his soul; the old stars would no longer do.

 

***

 

    THE meeting with the lawyer had gone well, and his journey had progressed slowly northward towards North Gate, where Heathwick was located. Adam took his time in a few of the towns, trying to remember what it was like to live in a place so full of quiet. After his third such extended stay, he realized that he was simply putting off his return to Heathwick. A journey that should have taken the better part of a week turned into a fortnight, but Adam had run out of pastoral villages. The only town in front of him was his own, and he could see the winding road that would take him out of the village and to the manor and church that were his birthright.

    Heathwick. One look at her and Adam was instantly transported back to simpler times: before his parents had died, before his relocation to London, before Bradley Bell. The graceful white columns still stood majestic atop the stairs, which spilled down onto the hills like an invitation. The parsonage stood snug between two oak trees, and Adam followed the footpath from the front door of the little stone cottage, across the river to the church – which was strangely occupied.

“Driver!” Adam rapped on the roof. “What day is today?”

“Saturday, June 14th, m’lud.” Came the chipper reply.

“Then why…?“ The carriage was drawing near the church now, and Adam rapped on the ceiling again.

“Let me out, I’ll meet you at the manor. You can bring my bags in, I’ll leave you the key.”

“Right-o, sir. Will you be long?”

“Only a moment, I should think. I’ll have your fee presently.”

    Without waiting for the carriage to stop, Adam swung down and began walking towards the church. Perhaps he shouldn’t intrude – it could be someone’s christening, he warned himself, but his curiosity was piqued. Last he heard, old Pastor Robbins had died, and the church had been unable to find a pastor willing to relocate this far out for this small of a congregation, much less one located on a manor that had been all but abandoned.

Adam put his hand on the pull of the church door, feeling the pitted metal even through his gloves. He had almost pulled it open when he heard a sound-

The church organ, blasting out a chord, followed by a voice, sure and strong. The singer’s pure tenor was golden, as warm as the June sun on Adam’s dark coat.

“_Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum, ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus.”_

    Adam felt as though he had been kicked in the gullet as the rest of the congregation joined in the song. It had been a favorite of Bradley’s; he had insisted on playing it even though Adam had tried to banish religious songs from his townhouse.

“It’s beautiful.” Bradley had said, smiling as he pressed the keys. “Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the beauty of it.”

“It’s about death-“ Adam had protested.

“It’s about a love stronger than death. A thirst to be together even though you might feel abandoned and alone. Maybe you can relate?” Brad had stopped playing and kissed him – there was never any arguing with him.

“ad te, Deus.“

Adam was transfixed by the resolution of the final chord, having followed the tenor throughout the piece. The fact that there was indeed a service taking place occurred to Adam at last, and he removed his hand from the door, not wanting to interrupt.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the holy matrimony of Neil Lambert and Katherine O’Connell“

    The same tenor voice, so uplifted in song, sounded muted and sad speaking, the words so infused with emotion that Adam almost didn’t catch the name. When it registered, Adam pivoted on his heel and burst into the church. It was his brother’s wedding, God damn it, and if anyone had a right to interrupt, it was Adam.

 

***

 

    KRISTOPHER was sweating. It was his first full service as a newly ordained priest of the Church of England, and it was a wedding at that. Not just any wedding, either. The wedding of the woman he had spent the last three years assuming he would one day marry to his new landlord’s affable and wealthy younger brother. Katy looked radiant, though it was clear she wasn’t looking at Kris. For Neil’s part, he didn’t seem to notice the tension; he seemed as eager as any groom on his wedding day. Their wedding was to have been months off, but last week Neil had received orders that his regiment would be leaving for Spain. Neil had begged Katy to move up the date; should something happen to him in the fighting he wanted to make sure she was well taken care of.

The organ began Kris’s favorite motet, a Palestrina, based on psalm 42.

    So as the deer longeth for running water, yea, so my soul longeth for you, oh Lord. The words of the motet were simple but evocative. Kris couldn’t help but think that his deer was bounding out of his grasp at last, having drunk her fill. It was an uncharitable thought, and he banished it to the back of his mind and let his voice carry his emotion instead. Katy’s airy soprano and Neil’s hesitant bass were no match for him, but the rest of the congregation supported them all. It was a beautiful sound, and joyous. Everything was almost as it should have been.

    As the song faded, Kris began the words of the ceremony. He looked past Katy and Neil, not wanting to see the excitement in her eyes as she looked up at her soon-to-be husband, their names falling from his mouth with much practiced diction. He hoped he didn’t sound as shaky as he felt, and secretly prayed for deliverance.

    The church door swung open loudly and Kris caught his breath. The late afternoon sun backlit the figure, as tall and straight a fellow as Kris had seen. The man seemed to forget himself for a moment as he looked around the small church, surveying the scene. With a graceful gesture, he swept his top hat off his head and slipped his black gloves from his hands.

“Brother!” Neil called, cutting through the silence of the moment. The man stepped forward, the door swinging closed behind him so Kris could get a good look at him.

    He looked like Neil, but at the same time, nothing at all like him. Whereas Neil’s face was bright and happy, his elder brother looked morose and pale. Where Neil’s hair was dark, his brother’s was fair – a golden – copper. His eyes swept over the room like a bird of prey, scanning the crowd for familiar faces, looking Katy up and down as if to find fault, and finally settled on Kris himself.

_But the lads about town tell me he’s not one to turn down a scrum. If you follow. _Neil had said. Kris supposed he should be repulsed, but Neil hadn’t seemed so, and as Adam gazed at him appraisingly, Kristopher Allen drew himself up to his full height. He had always been able to feel the hand of God in his life, and Kris felt it now, pushing him from behind ever so slightly towards the intimidating figure in front of him. What was behind this man’s evident suffering? Why had his own brother not bothered to invite him to his wedding? Was he really the sinner that Neil had so cheerfully painted him?

“Neil.” The man spoke, his voice high and cold. “I see congratulations are in order.”

“Adam. Don’t be cross with me. I did send a letter to your flat in London. My orders require me to report for duty next week and I, well, we wanted to g be married before I left.” Neil had left Katy at the altar and was walking hurriedly towards his elder brother, Adam. “Please. Join us in front. “ Neil waved aside his attendant, and escorted Adam to the place of honour at his right.

“Adam, this is my bride Katherine – Katy. Katy this is my brother, Adam.” Neil introduced. “Oh, and our new pastor, the Reverend Kristopher Allen.”

“How do you do.” Adam bowed his head slightly, looking longer at Kris than he did at Katy, though he did return her smile. It rang hollow to Kris, though Katy didn’t seem to notice.

“You may proceed, Reverend.” Neil said, but Adam tugged his shoulder and whispered something. Neil looked at him oddly and whispered back.

“I understand that, but I’m the one that’s paying for it. I shall have my say.” Kris heard Adam mutter angrily.

“Very well.” Neil said, face darkening. “No more music, however. My brother has a sudden aversion-“

“An aching head after a long day of travel.” Adam insisted. “I apologise.”

“Not at all, Mister Lambert.” Katy said, her voice sweet and full of the kindness Kris had so long admired. “If Adam is ill we could wait an hour more.”

“No, no. Do proceed.” Adam waved his hand. “Just…no more noise than necessary.”

    After a long moment of awkward silence, Kris continued with the ceremony, unable to be nervous about the words anymore, not with Adam’s pale blue eyes resting solely on him for the balance of the afternoon.

 

 

***

 

    ADAM leaned against the cherry mantle of the drawing room fireplace, contemplating his reflection in the plate glass window. He had been a boy the last time he had visited this room and now he was master of it.

"So you're married" Adam began, addressing his brother, who looked eager to get this particular conversation over with.

"So you're back home. For how long?" Neil ran a hand through his curly hair, tapping his foot quietly.

"Longer then you intend to stay, apparently." Adam poured his brother a drink. "It's good to see you, Neil. It's been far too long."

"A problem you could have remedied, had you wished." Neil bristled. "But London has its allure, I suppose. I certainly found happiness there."

"Her family is a bit lower than father would have preferred, but I suppose given the circumstances it was a good match. You might have consulted me, Neil."

"You have done as you wished for six years now without regard to familial responsibility. I've acted as head of the family in everything but name. Certainly I should be afforded the privilege of choosing my own spouse, since that is another duty you've neglected." Neil was blunt, but not untruthful. Adam had indeed neglected his duty to Heathwick. Since he would not provide the family with an heir, it was well that Neil had taken it upon himself to find a wife. In Katherine O'Connell, Neil had found a family willing to overlook the eccentricities of Adam's lifestyle and provide Heathwick with a beautiful and socially capable mistress.

"Forgive me. You've done well for yourself. I will endeavour to take more of a hand in family matters, especially now that you will be departing. Your wife is welcome to stay here, of course, provided she doesn't mind my presence."

"Why should she? It's your home as well as mine. I expect she should be grateful for the company. The only other person of note within circumstance is Reverend Allen, her childhood beau." Neil quirked a grin. "A nice enough chap, I suppose. A trifle dull but earnest enough."

"I had been meaning to ask where he came from. I am hardly a church-going man but don't the bishops usually wait till a man is out of short-pants before awarding him a parish?"

    Neil chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a sip.

"Usually. It was Katy's idea. I think she felt a little guilty. Apparently he carried quite the torch for her. Her father would have been a fool to approve of such a match, his prospects being what they were. So I took pity on the poor chap and wrote to Bishop Clark. He was only too happy to concede the appointment." Neil refilled his glass and checked his ascot in the looking-glass. "Not a bad bargain. We gain an extremely grateful pastor who will likely settle down with one of the local girls and I have someone to watch over Katy while I am away...and don't look at me like that." Adam had just shot Neil a wary look. "Katy's father assured me he was extremely pious. You're probably a greater threat to her virtue. At any rate, she hardly seems like the type to make a fool of me."

"You don't need a woman to make you a fool." Adam teased, and Neil raised an eyebrow.

"Neither do you, brother, if the London gossip is true."

"What do you know if it?" Adam's mood soured instantly, and the smirk fell of his brother's face.

"I have friends in London too, you know. Your exploits are not entirely a mystery. Your motivation, perhaps-"

"Shouldn't you be returning to your wife?" Adam interrupted, not wanting to discuss Bradley, especially not with Neil, of all people. He would likely tell him at exactly what point Bradley had fallen out of love with him, and chide Adam for not recognising his treachery immediately. He would be right to do so; Adam had been a fool for love. He vowed never to cede such power to another again, and being away from London all but removed the opportunity.

"We should both join the party. Will you favour us with a song?"

Adam scowled and left the room, not even caring to dignify Neil's request with a response. He wouldn't be insulted and then expected to perform like a common fool. Neil would make apologies for his absence, and if he took offence so be it.

***

  
THE grand ballroom of Heathwick did nothing to lift Kris’s spirits. If fact, it served only to throw into sharp relief the difference in station between he and Neil. How could he compare to this grandeur? He had been a fool, a blind fool to set his sights so high. Clearly, this sort of life was the life Katherine O’Connell deserved.

"You did a fine job today, Reverend." Kris eyed Katy's father James warily. He hadn't spoken to the man since he had given his permission to ask Katy's hand in marriage. His heart was not yet ready to forgive him, though Kris understood his situation. He would have done the same by his daughter were the choice in his hands. In some ways he was happy for Katy: that at least she would be well provided for. Neil Lambert could give her much that she deserved that Kristopher would have never been able to produce. He just hoped that, in time, Neil would love her as much. Surely he would.

"Thank you, sir. Congratulations on a most fortuitous match for your daughter. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Wait a moment, Mr. Allen. I wanted to congratulate you on your new posting as well. A parish of your own at your age is quite an accomplishment." James O'Connell thumped Kris on the back, and Kris shirked away from the heavy hand.

"Thank you, though your son-in-law had more to do with that than I did." Kristopher glanced around the room hurriedly, looking for anyone to save him from this thoroughly awkward conversation. Everywhere, guests were arriving and mingling, people Kristopher had never met. He was utterly alone in Heathwick but for the O'Connell family.

"If you were still looking for a wife, Katy's younger sister Mary is almost of a marriageable age. Now that you are a man of some means I am sure she would look favorably on such a match." James's wife Molly offered, tilting her head to indicate the second sister, who was giggling with the youngest O'Connell girl.

"I..uh, thank you for that suggestion. I think I shall settle in to my new duties before I do any courting." Kris tried to smile amiably, but he could tell from their disappointed reactions that they could read his disinterest. He excused himself, saying that he needed to meet his new parishioners, and wandered over to take a glass of wine from the serving tray.

    Kristopher ducked around the corner, happy for the few moments alone. Molly O'Connell was not the only woman with eligible daughters in the room, she was simply the most forward. Other just-as-subtle offers would no doubt be bandied about for the remainder of the evening. Of course Kris planned to move on someday. But today was not that day. Today was a day to get mildly inebriated, make an appearance, and leave before he could get publicly emotional.

"This is supposed to be a celebration." Kris turned slightly to see Neil Lambert holding two glasses of wine. "Allow me." He said, exchanging Kris's almost empty glass for a full one.

"Congratulations." Kris said, raising his glass slightly.

"I hope that smile isn't the best you can muster, or the ladies of the village will stop attending service. I thought I had left behind my most morose guest when I parted company with my brother a moment ago." Neil smiled a little too knowingly, and Kris felt his face begin to burn.

"Forgive me, Mr. Lambert, I...wine always leaves me with a headache." Kristopher lied, hoping that Neil would attend to his other guests.

"If it's stronger drink you're after, you should see the other Mr. Lambert. Upstairs on the right. In fact, you should pay him a visit anyway. You'll know him by his frown."

"I met him at the service." Kris mumbled, taking a sip of the wine.

"Seemed to me that you were quite focused on someone else. Didn't know if you got a good look at him." Kris was surprised by the ice in his tone but couldn't fault Neil. After all, Kristopher was a wedding guest and should at least pretend to be happy. "But I can't hold it against you. She looks exceedingly lovely today." Neil continued.

"She does." Kris agreed, nodding his head.

"I hope we can be friends." Neil said, offering his hand.

"I'm sure of it." Kris took the hand that was offered. "As long as you're good to her."

"You have my word."

"Good man."

Neil smiled at him, a genuine smile rather than his typical sardonic smirk.

"I should get back to my guests. Do drop in on my brother."

"I shall." Kris promised, watching Neil make his way towards the crowded ballroom to dance with his new wife.

 

 

***

 

    ADAM began his unpacking himself, as the household servants were too busy with the wedding party below to be bothered much with him. Not that Adam had even asked. It was something to take his mind off the energetic string quartet that played in the ball room and could be heard all the way in his childhood apartments. Of course, being master of the house, he could have taken his parents’ wing, but when Adam had opened the door, two very important things rose to his attention. Primarily that the room as not uninhabited – clearly Neil had been styling himself lord of the manor and, from the flower petals scattered over the sheets, intended on doing so again tonight. Secondly, this was the first time he had set foot in his parents’ bedroom since their accident. He wasn’t sure how Neil dealt with the memories, but Adam had shut the door firmly on them long ago.

    Adam folded his breeches and placed them in his wardrobe, sliding the door shut with satisfaction. He supposed he should go down and share a dance with his brother’s guests, but he had just been travelling – Neil would understand. The music was boisterous, and every note tore at his heart. Singing, dancing - they belonged to London, to a mischievous pair of brown eyes and a giving set of lips. Adam had thought to escape from thoughts of Bradley here, but today’s ceremony had proved that such escape would be impossible. Bradley followed him even here, a phantom present in every note of every song that Adam heard. He had forgotten the music of the country, how the organ at church reverberated through the hill, how the famers would sing as they went about their daily chores, how even the most modest of social engagements centred around some sort of music. If that reminder of Bradley were not enough, the new Pastor must have been sent by the Devil to torment him. He had the same color eyes, though these were wider and more innocent. Pastor Allen had the same sharp jaw, the same short stature, and the same broad shoulders that made Adam’s breath catch.

    Yet as much as he was reminded of Brad by Kristopher Allen, there was an inherent innocence and goodness in him that had long ago disappeared from his former lover. Adam could tell that something had been troubling the man during the ceremony. Adam had been surprised to learn that the pastor and the bride knew each other well; Neil had said as much in their brief time alone before the reception began. Neil had not indicated the extent of their past relationship, however. Neil had mentioned that Kris was an unfortunate suitor, which was rotten luck – unless it was more than luck. Heathwick was remote, and Adam had not been expected. In spite of Neil's assurances to the contrary, Adam could not help but think that perhaps this Kristopher Allen had designs on his brother’s wife, knowing that Neil Lambert would not be around to defend his honour. Perhaps the girl’s father had disapproved of Kristopher so the shrew had devised a plan whereby they could be together under the guise of religious piety. Adam bristled. Though he was not close with Neil, Adam would not let some country cleric make a cuckold of him.

    Adam’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on his drawing room door. He hastened to answer it, taking care to smooth his high collar. He pulled open the door, expecting Neil begging him to come down to the party. Instead, he found Reverend Allen, who stood a little awkwardly in the doorframe.

“My apologies if I am interrupting-“ The man began, unsure of himself.

“Not at all. Come in.” Adam was curious and stood aside. “Might I get you a drink? I was about to help myself to some scotch.” Perhaps it was fortune that sent the preacher to Adam’s door, this would be the perfect opportunity to discover his intentions.

“Normally I wouldn’t but it is a celebration, after all.” He did not look very celebratory, but Adam poured him a glass anyway, and gestured towards a set of chairs by the fireplace.

“Why aren’t you celebrating? A single man like yourself, young and with a new parish of your own – I’d imagine that every mother out there has her eye on you for one of their daughters.” Adam ventured. Kristopher took a long, slow sip of his drink before looking back at Adam, eyes full of misery.

“I could ask you the same question.” Kris dodged, placing his empty glass on the side table. Adam immediately got up to refill it, ignoring the pastor’s “that’s enough” gesture.

“I’m not celebrating,” Adam said as he poured, “because I have just travelled for two weeks, thinking to quietly settle back into country life only to find my brother getting married to a woman I’ve never even heard of, my house full of people and my head full of a string quartet that just won’t stop playing.”

“Not a music lover?”

“Not anymore.” Adam admitted softly, his stern countenance slipping a moment. “Did my brother send you to find me?”

“He suggested I seek you out if I was going to stand around looking morose. I am not sure if he thought you would cheer me up or if you would appreciate like-minded company. “

“Very pleasant of him to make a mockery of our mutual misery.” Adam supplied. “But that’s Neil for you. Always making light of everything. I suppose one of us has to.”

“So you make everything dark, is that it?” Kristopher asked, curiosity etched into the fine lines around his eyes. “Were you always the more serious of the two, or has your homecoming coincided with an unfortunate event?”

“This is a very awkward first conversation.” Adam answered, not sure of what to make of his new pastor, who looked as though the whiskey was already going to his head.

“I’m sorry. I…I actually came because I wanted to enquire if you were going to be staying at Heathwick long.”

“Indefinitely.” Adam said, finishing his glass of whiskey and refilling it, along with Pastor Allen’s while he was up. “You seem surprised.” Indeed, Kristopher’s mouth had fallen open, and Adam could not help but notice the pretty way that the firelight played on his full lower lip.

“Your brother made it sound as though Ka-Mrs. Lambert would be living here. He said that you lived in London.”

“I did until recently. And if she wishes, I suppose Heathwick is large enough to accommodate both of us. Since I am her brother now, it would be my responsibility to make sure she is well taken care of. Also it’s been many years since Heathwick has had proper inhabitants; I suppose she could use a woman’s touch.“

“Most men would take a wife of their own.” Kris suggested again, blushing a bit.

“I am not most men.” Adam replied, cocking an eyebrow. “And, I suspect, neither are you.”

“I would like to take a wife one day.” Kristopher protested, looking a little nervous.

“Ah yes, but not a wife of your own.” Adam remarked smartly. “Is that why you took this parish? Knowing my brother would be away? Or, given the way the war has been progressing, hoping that his absence would become permanent? ”

Kris rose immediately, forehead pinched together. Adam rose with him, unsure of what would follow.

“That is an insult to my honour, sir. And to the honour of your brother’s wife.” He said briskly.

“Are you going to ask for satisfaction?” Adam’s lip curled slightly at the shock on Kris’s face at his suggestion. Though not as affected as his drinking companion, the whiskey was beginning to do its work. He felt courage piping through his veins, and something else too, something darker and more desperate.

“Of course not. I shall gladly turn the other cheek, but you should know your hospitality leaves something to be desired.” Kris looked as though he was straining to remain composed, and Adam felt a cruel urge to push him further. He looked so very much like Bradley, who was probably even now in the midst of his new lover’s arms. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.” Kris was flushed, and Adam guessed that it was the whiskey as much as anything; Kris’s speech was slightly slurred and his eyes were wide.

“Then why did you come?” Adam took a step forward and placed a hand just under Kris’s chin. It was apparent that Kris had heard of his nature; country tongues did wag, and certainly there were enough disappointed mothers in the village that would have relished the chance to complain to the new pastor. “Conversion?“ Kris had frozen at the contact and lowered his gaze, but not before Adam saw something flash in his eyes, something he had not expected to see. Adam dropped his hand but did not relinquish their proximity. For his part Kris did not surrender any ground and so they stood, close in the low firelight. Adam tilted his head slightly, arching his brow. “Curiosity?”

    The sound of Adam’s voice seemed to break Kris’s trance. Breathing deep, he met Adam’s eyes again, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally speaking.

“I merely wished to better acquaint myself with the man to whom I will owe a debt of obligation. Your family has provided for the upkeep of the church and her servants for many years, and having heard that you were not a man of great faith, I took it upon myself to provide an opportunity for such acquaintance.” Kristopher swallowed hard. “ I am no papist, sir, to hear confession, so whatever sinful proclivities that weigh upon your soul are your own and I will thank you to keep them.“

“Oh come now. “ Adam interrupted, wondering if he had been mistaken in his assessment. Perhaps he had imagined the momentary flutter of interest, a trick of the firelight inside Kristopher’s deep brown eyes. “These are modern times.”

“The times are what they are, and I am what I am.” Kristopher stated simply, tugging on his black jacket as if to call attention to the raiment.

“I am sorry for you, Mister Allen.” Adam said, words sharp on his tongue. “I know not what trick of cruel circumstance brought you to Heathwick, but you are here and – as you noted – in my obligation. Let us not harbour any illusions about that relationship. I shall provide for you as is my duty, with the following caveats. As the gossips have told you, I am not a man of faith, and will not be subjected to any of your overtures to persuade me otherwise. Secondly, whatever torch you are carrying for my brother’s wife should be extinguished immediately. For all your recent indignation on her behalf, nothing will stain her honour more than the utterly besotted way that you looked at her all afternoon. “ Kristopher opened his mouth to protest, but Adam waved him off. “Her honour, of course, is now my honour. I care not for what you were to each other. In the future, you will school your emotions so that your lust isn’t readily apparent to every parishioner in the county.”

“My love is not-“

“Spare me your fervent denial of romantic feelings. I, of all people, know the folly in loving someone beyond your grasp.”

    Adam watched as the pastor’s shoulders sank, the fight clearly out of him. He had expected to feel satisfaction in the victory, but the viciousness faded as Kristopher returned to his chair and picked up his whisky glass.

“I suppose you would” Kris remarked, swirling the liquid in the bottom of his glass. “You could have almost any woman you desired, and yet…” Kris waved a hand in a dismissive gesture that Adam found oddly charming.

“Yes. Desired being the key element.” Adam was amused - Mr. Allen had been offended only a moment ago, and now it appeared as though he was trying to understand Adam’s preferences. Adam was unused to being dissected; Bradley and he had shared a commonality of mind and therefore had never discussed it as such; they hadn’t ever felt the need. Adam’s other peers would sooner die than discuss his sexuality – yes, it was an enlightened time, but even if society was willing to turn a blind eye towards men living together, such things were not discussed in polite society.

    Perhaps a love-lorn, inebriated, newly-minted pastor didn’t count himself part of polite society.

    Adam became aware that Kris was studying him, so he returned the scrutiny. Had they met under different circumstances, Adam would have had to admit that he found Kristopher positively bewitching, especially sitting low in the leather chair, face illuminated by the dying fire. His hair was perfectly mussed; a happy result of a long day rather than hours of styling a la Beau Brommel. The two shared another long moment.

“I should let you to your unpacking.” Kris said, finishing his drink. He stood up, wavering slightly, and Adam reflexively caught his arm.

“Are you alright?” Adam asked.

“I never should have agreed to come here. I should have fought for her. I should have at least tried-“

“Oh, dear.” Adam felt Kristopher lean a little heavier against him as he took a stumbling step.

“I am…Forgive me. I am not acquainted with strong drink. I fear you have outpaced me.”

  
“I’ll walk you home.” Adam offered without thinking. Kristopher Allen had gotten under his skin, that was for certain. A moment ago he had been purposefully trying to offend the man and now he was over concerned with his well-being.

“I couldn’t trouble you.” Kris struggled to right himself.

“Nonsense. You won’t make it down the hall without me.” Adam insisted, slipping his arm around Kristopher’s waist.

“Adam…Mr. Lambert. Please. I shouldn’t be seen like this.” Kristopher pleaded. Adam considered the situation. He couldn’t very well spend the night at Heathwick. That in itself would be cause for gossip. On the other hand, his inebriated state could not be missed by half the guests should they appear downstairs now.

“Servant’s stair. We’ll leave through the kitchens.” They would be seen by servants-of course, and Adam was counting on their discretion. Hopefully the personnel Neil had chosen to employ would know better than to talk. If not, it would be helpful to know now so that Adam could have them replaced. In a way, this situation was a godsend.

    Kristopher nodded his assent, and before long Adam was ushering him down the narrow, twisting staircase. Adam hadn’t been down this back stairway since he and Neil had been children, racing about the manor with abandon. This journey was much slower paced; Kristopher would only take a few steps at a time before he’d collapse against Adam, mumbling apologies. When they had descended halfway, Kristopher straightened suddenly, pulling free of Adam altogether.

“I loved her, Mr. Lambert.” Kristopher said suddenly, as if it were a great revelation. “I loved her and I never told her. I should tell her.” He turned as if to re-climb the stairs, and for a moment Adam contemplated letting him march down the main stairway and declare his affection before the assembled company. It would certainly keep the small folk from discussing his relocation. Yet Adam thrust his arm out and caught Kristopher by the tails of his black coat.

  
“If you love her, you will let her be happy with her new husband, tonight of all nights.” Adam said, trying to talk some sense into the man.

“Would you simply walk away from someone you loved?” Kris whirled on him.

“If they told me there was someone else.” Adam admitted. “If they confessed to love another, I would.

And I have.”

“I should not’ve given up so easily.” Kristopher said sadly. “I should’ve fought for her.”

“Nonsense. If she had ever loved you, you would not have had to fight. You do not win love. You surrender yourself to it.”

“Is love submission, then?” Kristopher asked, his voice small and soft as he descended the two stairs down to where Adam was standing. He looked at Adam with an appraising look in his eyes. “Is that how it was for you, before you left?”

“Not as such.” Adam said, regarding him cautiously. That look was in his eyes again, challenging and dark. “For me it was more like … faith I suppose. You don’t ever hear God return your prayers, and yet you’ve devoted your life to Him. I had faith that Bradley would be with me, and he was.”

  
“Until he wasn’t.”

  
“Until he wasn’t.” Adam repeated. “But this was supposed to be about you and the now-Mrs. Lambert. That is so strange to say. Mrs. Lambert.”

“’Tis stranger still to hear, ‘specially in context.” Kris shook his head, and the motion caused him to reel a bit. He leaned against Adam for balance. “It helps, I s’pose, to know someone else has loved and lost and isn’t broken beyond repair.”

“Who said I wasn’t?”

“You aren’t the one being snuck out the servant’s stair by your landlord, whom you’ve only just met and who happens to be the brother of the husband of the love of your life.”

“No, but I did return to a place I vowed I would never live again in order to avoid contact with anything that would remind me of my ex-lover, only to be confronted with a pastor who could pass for his long-lost brother.”

Kristopher pulled back momentarily.

“I see.” His brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry. I should not have said that. Please, Mr. Allen, I beg your forgiveness.”

  
“There is nothing to forgive. I am sorry if my presence causes you heartache. I had hoped that perhaps we could be friends. I felt that even though on the surface we are very different, we are bound together by our mutual misfortune in matters of the heart. I had hoped we could find more pleasant similarities. But if such a relationship would cause you any grief-”

“I should like that very much, Mr. Allen.” Adam interrupted. “It was unexpected, that is all. Disarming.”

“Please feel free to use my given name. It feels odd, having confessed so much, to stand on ceremony.” Kris offered, leaning his head against Adam’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to remain upright.

“Then I hope you shall return the favor, Kristopher.” Adam paused a moment before letting out a small laugh. “Shall we? This is a very serious discussion to be having in the servant’s stair.”

“Thank you, all the same – for stopping me from making a fool out of myself. For listening to me when I had no one else. I really am quite alone here.” Kris said, allowing Adam to support him again.

  
“You came to Heathwick chasing love, and I returned to Heathwick fleeing from it. Perhaps neither of us is as alone as we felt.” Adam said, patting Kris’s side as they eased down the stair and into the starry night.

    It was a short walk to the parsonage, and Adam closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Kristoph

er pressed next to him. Not since Bradley had left had he been so physically close to another person. It was strangely comfortable, though Kristopher stumbled every few feet and leaned on him the entire journey. Adam’s arm fit nicely around Kristopher’s broad back, and when Kristopher snaked his arm low around Adam’s waist for more balance, Adam was glad for the cover of darkness as he felt a blush working its way across his face. Kristopher was not the only one feeling the effects of the whiskey.

They reached the cottage at last, and Kristopher extended his hand at the doorway.

“I shall see you at service tomorrow, I hope?”

“Of course.” Adam said without thinking. He had not been to mass in years, but the happy smile on his new friend’s face coupled with the buzz of the alcohol in his blood made him return the grin brightly. “I am looking forward to it.” He said, and found it was not a lie.

 

***

 

  
    KRIS awoke to a thumping in his skull and a churning stomach. It took a moment before he realized that the non-stop thudding was being matched by a rapping at his front door.

“Breakfast, sir. With Mr. Lambert’s compliments.” One of the servants from the main house handed him

a small basket and bobbed her head before turning around.

  
“Wait. Which Mr. Lambert? Kristopher called after her, rubbing his eyes in the morning light.

“The elder.” She said, bobbing her head again. “The young mister is still abed.” The woman added, her face suddenly flushing. “Good day, Pastor Allen.” She giggled, obviously eager to be away.

    Of course it was from Adam. If Kris had woken up with Katy in bed, his first impulse would not be to send breakfast to one’s preacher. Kris looked in the basket and found a modest breakfast of fried eggs, toast, and a sausage. There were two silver flasks, the larger of which held chilled water. After unscrewing the cap to the smaller flask, nausea washed over Kris as the smell of whisky overpowered his senses. He hurriedly closed the flask and sat down, head between his legs until the worst of the feeling had passed. He looked inside the basket again, hoping that the sight of the food would invigorate him. Lifting the plate of eggs, he saw a white piece of paper had slipped beneath the plate.

_The Reverend Mister Allen,_

I understand that my brother has not yet assigned you any help and that you have been fending for you

_rself like a common farmer. I have no doubt that, in spite of your modest protestations to the contrary, you would appreciate such assistance with day-to-day chores, so please expect someone from the house each evening to take any laundry, perform mild cleaning, and prepare you with an evening meal. I do hope you will join us for breakfasts in the morning room, but if your solitude is preferable I shall arrange for your servant to accommodate._

The whiskey is for just prior to the service. I find that a nip of it will allay most of the headache you are most likely suffering. My apologies, incidentally. I look forward to further conversation with you – though perhaps next time I might forgo insulting your honour and you might forgo becoming so inebriated you cling to me like a besotted shepardess. There I go insulting you again. Forgive me, Kristopher, I am a dreadful person. If we are to be friends, you ought to know.

Yrs,

Mister Adam Lambert

    Kristopher laughed a bit as he read, blushing as the memory of his intoxicated stumbling came back to him. He had been forthright with Adam, almost too forthright. There was something about the man’s demeanour that was at once intimidating and at the same time encouraged utter frankness. The evening had passed strangely for Kris, starting out with the sharp agony of having to watch the woman of his dreams dancing with her new husband and ending with a desire that Kris had long ago banished to the deepest recesses of his mind.

 

 

***

    It was certainly the most memorable church service Adam had ever attended. Kristopher looked as though he had witnessed the actual crucifixion; his pale skin was a bit green, particularly when he held up the bread and wine for God’s blessing. Best though were the sly glances he kept sending as if his sickness was shared joke.

    For his part, Adam’s stomach clenched whenever the organ sounded. The reaction was visceral; one chord and he felt as though he was back in London, back with Bradley. The feeling only intensified when he heard Kris carrying the congregation in song, voice strong and clear as the morning light.

“Can we expect you for Dinner, Pastor Allen?” A sharp eyed woman had cornered Kristopher after the service, a veritable flock of daughters in tow.

“I, ah...that is to say...” Kristopher was sweating, and at the mention of dinner he looked even worse than he had during communion. He cast a pitiable expression in Adam’s direction, and Adam felt compelled to rush to his aid.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Greene” Adam stepped in, smiling with the full force of his not-inconsiderable charm. “I asked Mr. Allen to dine with me, as it’s my first evening back home – well, without my home full of revellers, that is. I am sure that he can attend to your lovely family another night this week, perhaps?”

Kristopher nodded his head enthusiastically. Mrs. Greene accepted his regrets and was about to leave before she turned her eyes on Adam.

“It is good to see you again, Mr. Lambert. Perhaps after so long in the city you are eager to settle down yourself? Seeing your brother happily married before you have yet to achieve a desirable match... less charitable souls would call it queer.” Adam bristled, trying hard not to outwardly show his annoyance. She was only saying what most of the county would soon be remarking upon.

“My younger brother is married.” Kristopher interjected, looking offended on Adam’s behalf. “I suppose th

at makes my situation just as queer.”

“Oh, pardon me, Pastor Allen. I meant no offense, to either of you.” She flushed crimson. “I am sure the both of you will find lovely wives in no time.”

“And I am sure Mr. Greene will eventually find men willing to divest you of your many daughters.” Adam said, smiling as broadly as he could muster.

Adam stayed by Kris’s side, greeting his old neighbours as they reintroduced themselves. It was surprising how little their faces had changed in the time he had been gone. Adam felt like he had completely transformed in the intervening years; he scarcely felt like the same person.

  


 

***

 

  
    KRISTOPHER hesitated a moment before rapping at the door. Perhaps Adam had only been jesting when he invited Kris to dine with the family. It was possible that he had merely been providing Kris with an excuse to spend the evening alone. However, an invitation was an invitation.

  
“Come in, Mister Allen.”

    Kris stepped out of the twilight into the shining foyer of Heathwick, feeling much better for the afternoon’s respite. The servant dropped a polite curtsey and took his hat. He had changed into a green coat and tan trousers, finding that he missed colour after spending the weekend in black. The fact that he had gotten sick all over his last clean black shirt had also figured into his decision. Nevertheless, he was hungry; the small breakfast having long since ceased to sate him.

    He stood awkwardly, not sure where to go in the large house. He turned back to the servant, but she had already vanished from sight in that quiet way that the gentry so prized in their hired help. He took the moment to admire the family portrait hanging on the wall in the gallery just off the foyer. It was clearly about ten years old, as the Adam that looked back at him with painted blue eyes was on the cusp of manhood. His face was slightly rounder than the Adam Kris knew now; the freckles more pronounced. He did not smile the way his younger brother and mother did, which Kris thought was a shame.

“It’s not a very good likeness, she was much more beautiful.”

Kris turned to see Adam staring at him, in the flesh this time but with very much the same expression as he wore in the portrait.

“In truth, I hadn’t studied her yet. I was regretting that you chose such a serious expression. But I am sure she was. Very lovely. That is, she is lovely in the portrait so I can assume she was more so in life. As you say.”

Adam grinned.

“Tell me, Kristopher, do you always carry on so – with or without a few drinks to loose your tongue?”

  
    Kris flushed, grateful that he high collar of his shirt hid the crimson creeping down his neck.

“No. Only when I’m humiliated, sir. What you must think of me...If you haven’t written to the bishop already I’d thank you to give me another chance. I do not normally make a habit of drinking.”

“I must remind you to call me Adam, and certainly feel no shame on my account. You have a bold spirit when you are in your cups, I admire it. It would be a shame for you to banish it entirely. No, I insist you and I have a drink together again sometime. Though not this evening, I think.” Adam answered, with a hint of mischievousness in his eyes. For a moment, he looked younger than the portrait.

“I think not.” Kris laughed in spite of himself. “But if you please, I would be happy to attend to you after dinner at the Greene residence this week. Perhaps you would be so good as to join me, considering it was you that promised me there in the first place.”

“I saved you from getting ill all over yourself in front of your parishioners and this is how you repay me? Here I thought you were possessed of some manners at least” Adam placed a friendly hand on Kris’s shoulder.

  
“Speaking of my social graces, or lack thereof, I must thank you for your kindness this morning. The arrangements you have made for my living situation are beyond what I had expected.

“They are nothing more than what should be afforded to a man of your station. Perhaps you are unused to it, but I would be remiss if I neglected such niceties. Believe you me, I’ve looked at the books. Reverend Robbins burned through twice as much as I shall spend on your account.”

“Then perhaps I should be more discriminating.” Kris laughed, moving closer. “I’ll have to ask you to show me where we’re dining. I didn’t get a tour of Heathwick.”

“You didn’t?” Adam asked, feigning shock. “My brother has been neglecting you. We have awhile before dinner, and I would be most pleased to show you my home. That is, if you would care to see it.”

    Adam made a splendid tour guide, colouring obscure details of the architecture with stories of his family. Adam’s upbringing had greatly differed from Kristopher’s own. The Lamberts were very liberal with their children, allowing them great freedom at an early age. While he was impressed with the legacy they had left their children in the form of the house, he could see that the lessons they had imparted to their eldest son were more valued than the great wealth that Heathwick provided.

“It must have been hard. Their accident.” Kristopher said after Adam had recounted listening to his father’s will in the handsome, book-lined library.

“It was shocking to hear, to be certain. My heart didn’t really believe it until the day I heard the lawyers address me as if I were father. It was terrifying. I always knew I would have to make the decisions one day, but I had always pictured it as so far off. I…I’m a bit ashamed of my behavior actually. I moved to London, leaving Heathwick in the hands of our lawyer and Neil. I made sure I had reports, of course, but still. I neglected my responsibility for something that turned out not to be as worthy as I thought it was.” Adam paused and regarded Kristopher carefully. “Will you inherit, Kristopher?”

“Not as such. I am the eldest son, but my family does not have much to speak of. In truth, my parents thank Heaven that they had no daughters. Dowries would have proven difficult. We are an old family, but my grandfather ran up a debt that he couldn’t repay in one lifetime. My father has done well in repaying it, but it has cost him. At an early age, father decided it would be best for me to enter the clergy. He thought Daniel would enlist, but he found a wife whose family owns a mill. He works for her father. It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s an honest one.”

  
“Why the clergy for you? Why not the Navy? I would wager you could have been accepted as a Midshipman.” Kristopher swallowed hard. It was once his life’s ambition to join His Majesty’s Navy, particularly once war with the French broke out. He blushed deeply before speaking, wishing he had some of the whiskey he had nearly drowned himself in the night prior. Though if anyone would understand…

“I had a close friend growing up. Mark Thompson, the innkeeper’s boy. He grew up working in the Inn, you see, and was far worldlier than I. He told me a story once, the story of two sailors that had returned home during leave. They shared a room, as is common for midshipmen. They had ordered bathwater and when Mark delivered the steaming tub, the two men were engaged in…” Kris coughed uncomfortably, and Adam burst out in laughter.

“Clearly I should have joined the Navy.”

“It’s a hanging offense.” Kristopher stated simply. “They begged Mark to keep silent, on account that it was a hanging offense to do ... what they were doing. They even paid him, but he told me.”

“Did you tell on them?” Adam asked, voice soft and distant.

“No. But Mark wanted to try what they had done. Said it must be pretty good if men were willing to die for it. He was my best friend and so I...” Kris walked hurriedly to the arm chair next to the fireplace and sat down. Hr e couldn't bring himself to say the words, even after all these years. It was not disgust that held his tongue, it was the fear that Adam would hear in his voice that Kris had enjoyed it. That in spite of his protestations at the time, it had felt natural. When Mark had whispered the suggestion in his ear, Kristopher had been just as eager. He had even volunteered to go first.

“Kris, you don’t have to continue.” Adam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I understand.”

  
“But that’s why I want to tell you. I’ve never been able to discuss it. Father came upon us, upon me, I should say, on my knees in front of Mark. We were just boys. I don’t even think I understood what I was doing.” Tears stung Kris’s eyes just as a clap of thunder sounded. Rain began falling, pattering angrily on the domed copper roof of the library. “Father was horrified, of course. He would have been just as horrified had I been between the legs of some milkmaid, but since it was another boy he was afraid for me. After that I he sent me to study with our Reverend. I wasn’t allowed to see any of my friends. That’s how I came to know Katy so well – she and her little sisters were the only children who lived nearby. Certainly, any thoughts of the Navy were put aside. Father wouldn’t risk it, and I was determined to make him proud of me again.”

“I am sure you have.” Adam said, voice wavering. It was a brief rain shower. The drumming on the roof let up, but the thunder continued rolling outside, an ominous undercurrent to Kristopher’s story.

  
“They were so pleased when I told them that Mr. O’Connell had given me his permission to ask for Katy’s hand. It was as though they could finally stop worrying about me. Katherine was to be my redemption.”

  
“You don’t need to seek redemption. You were just a child. Boys are curious by nature. I bet your friend Mark didn’t have to seek redemption.” Adam gently reproached.

“He should have.” Kristopher pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat and dabbed at his eyes. “He joined the Navy at fifteen. A year later they send his sea chest home. Killed in action, they told his parents, but another friend of ours heard the truth. He was hung under article Twenty-Nine.”

“I’m so sorry.” Adam said, kneeling down in front of Kris’s chair. Lightning flashed bright through the windows, illuminating the landscape outside. It was a fierce spring storm; only hours ago the skies had been clear.

“So the priesthood it was for me, and by the grace of God, I have never been moved to sin in that manner again.” It was not a lie, but not a whole truth either. As much as the feminine form excited Kristopher,he found the male body just as enticing. Though he had never given in to the longing, it had remained though banished to the deepest recesses of his mind. Being near Adam was casting candle light on parts of his past better left in the dark.

“It was just a curious phase. Some boys go through them.” Adam assured him, rising. “Some boys never grow out of them. I was fortunate in that I had no experience with such matters until I moved to London. In London, in certain parts of London, no one cares. Of course, no one cares in thecountry either, not as long as you are discreet. The military has their own code of conduct, and the Church has their predispositions, but thankfully my father and mother raised me to be myself. Smartly myself, I should add. Were they still alive, I am sure I would have been encouraged to take a wife. As that isn’t the case, I look forward to growing into my dotage as a crotchety old bachelor. No one will look twice at dotty old Uncle Adam.”

    Kris burst into laughter at the idea of an elderly Adam. It was somewhat ridiculous.

His laughter was cut short, however, by the flash of light coming through the south window that nearly blinded him.

“That must have struck somewhere.” Kristopher said, rushing to the window.

“A tree, perhaps?” Adam offered hopefully, straining to see though the dark.

“I could have been wrong, I suppose. It was so bright.”

“Let’s hope you were.” Adam said, clearly not as concerned with the storm. “Kristopher. I want you to forgive yourself for what happened all those years ago. You were just a child, and you have done splendidly for yourself. You said that Katy was to have been your redemption. I still do not think you need redemption, but she has brought you here. For that I am grateful, as I hope you are. Let Heathwick be your redemption, then, as she will be mine as well. Redemption not for a supposed sin, but from placing such cruel burdens on yourself, and from the pain of shattered expectations.”

“I’ll try to think of it that way.” Kris said, brightening.

“I hope you shall.” Adam said, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “For if sucking prick is truly a sin, then not all the papists in Rome could save my soul.”

    Kris burst into laughter, the sound exploding from his chest. Adam joined him, unable to refrain. It was a musical thing, Adam’s laughter, and Kris found that he loved the sound of it. The amused look on his face quickly morphed into a look of horror, however, as Adam looked out onto the south garden again.

“Adam?”

“The parsonage!” Adam exclaimed, dashing towards the window. Kris turned and watched in shock as yellow and orange flames billowed from the parsonage – only too recently his home. “We have to stop it before it spreads to the church.” Adam tore from the room to call for help, but Kris remained frozen, watching as his new life went up in smoke.

“Reverend!” Adam called back, and the sound of his title snapped Kris to attention. “We’ll need every man.”

Kris followed Adam into the night, praying that what little effort they could muster would be enough to salvage something from the fire.


	2. Go Forth From Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fire, Kristopher and Adam's friendship begins to re-awaken aspects of their past they had both thought lost, for better or worse. Can their fledgling romance survive the unexpected path the future has in store?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs used herein are traditional English folk songs. Thank you to Bamberrific for the Beta and Soapy for countless hours of brianstorming.

    THE REVEREND Kristopher Allen awoke to the acrid smell of ash. It was not the normal odour of a wood fire. There was something thick and vile that stuck to his nasal passages, worse than he imagined the sulfuric fires of hell could smell. He sat up slowly, a cough rattling from his chest. His pillowcase was smeared with black, there was black beneath his fingernails, and a look in the mirror revealed that his face was also filthy.

It occurred to him, as his feet connected with a plush Persian rug, that he had no clue as to his whereabouts. Yet perhaps the opulence of his surroundings should have been clue enough. A quick glance out of the window confirmed his only logical location: he was somewhere inside the great manor of Heathwick.  Further examination yielded little information; the room was impersonally decorated; a guest room, perhaps, or Neil's childhood apartments. The door on his left was open and led to a familiar drawing room.  The embers in the fireplace were still flickering, and Kristopher padded closer, his bare feet chilly against the birch floor.

Looking into the ash and flame brought back flashes of memory. The shouts of the men, the shrieking of terrified horses, the ache in his arms as he threw bucket after bucket on the blaze. He had finally given up and dashed into the building, trying to rescue what he could from the church.  Grabbing the Holy Bible from the lectern had been all he managed to do before arms were around him, pulling him out of the smoke and heat and into the humid night air. He remembered Adam's concerned hands brushing over his cheeks, and then the sensation of being lifted as his vision had gone black.

"Good to see you up and about, Allen." A voice said, startling him out of his recollection. Kris turned swiftly to find Adam perched in a wing chair adjacent to the door to the bedroom in which he had spent the night. "The doctor left about an hour ago; said you'd be awake soon enough."

"Doctor?" Kristopher asked, all of a sudden self-conscious in his nightshirt and smallclothes.

"Dr. Perkins, from the village. I rode to fetch him while one of the servants - forgive me, I am not acquainted with them all personally as of yet, dressed you for bed." Adam rose and inspected his face, placing a warm hand beneath his chin. "They could have at least washed your face; I shall have to speak with Neil about that one."

"It's nothing, though I apologise for the bedclothes. They look like an urchin lay between them." Kris said, feeling oddly flushed. He turned his head.

"Are you alright? Should you be standing? The doctor said you might feel dizzy. All the smoke, you see, and physical exhaustion. Here, take a seat." Adam escorted him to one of the chairs near the fireplace.  "Can I send for anything?" 

"Tea." Kris said weakly. "And if someone could be troubled to draw a bath..."

"Of course,” Adam said, moving to ring the service bell. "I just had tea sent up for myself. Sugar?' Kris nodded and Adam busied himself in front of the tea tray, adding a splash of milk and stirring before handing Kristopher the warm cup.

"You make good tea." Kris mumbled, to which Adam laughed.

"It's not as if I made it.  It's probably a trifle cold to be honest. I'll have someone bring up a fresh pot."

    Kris hesitated a moment after assuring Adam that the tea really was to his satisfaction. He sensed that Adam was trying to distract him from something.

"How is it?" Kris asked finally, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"The parsonage is nearly destroyed, as you saw last night. No doubt you remember that."

   Kristopher did, in fact. By the time the local men were assembled, the roof had collapsed in on the structure, the heavy rafters crumbling a portion of the stone walls beneath. No doubt the plaster and lath interior walls were damaged beyond repair as the fire had made the parsonage into a veritable oven.

"The church?"

Adam lowered his eyes, making Kristopher's stomach irrevocably clench. He hadn't been aware that he had been clinging to the reassurance that had been so present in Adam's slate-blue gaze.

"I'm not an architect, but the men say it can be salvaged. However, most of the sanctuary was badly burned. Everything inside needs to be replaced - between the fire, the smoke, and the water I would be surprised if anything could be kept. Some of the women are attempting to dry out the hymnals on the grass but I fear it's a lost cause. I should tell them to stop-"

"Let them." Kristopher interrupted. "Sometimes it's good to put forth an effort. It lets people feel that they have a modicum of control over the situation. I should be out there, I should be -" Kris made an effort to rise, but Adam pushed a hand to his chest and sat him back down, dropping down to a knee so that he was at Kristopher's eye level.

"All in good time. Doctor's orders are that  you rest today. If you wish, I'll accompany you to survey the damages this afternoon, but not before you've had a hot meal and a change of clothes."

"My clothes?"

"Will be seen to. You'll look a bit silly today, but I shall have the tailor by this afternoon to address the situation." Adam said firmly as the servants arrived to draw Kristopher's bath water. "I have some business to attend to, but if you need anything, just ring the bell. I'll send for you at lunch time, and then we'll see about those damages." Adam rose. "You will be alright, yes?"

    Kristopher nodded, feeling very drowsy again now that he had been sitting near the warm fire. Adam began to walk away and Kris chided himself for his poor manners. Surely he should say something to the man who had clearly spent all morning attending to his needs.

"I thank you for caring for me, Mr. Lambert…Adam.” Kristopher paused, feeling a flood of warmth and gratitude as he spoke the other man’s Christian name. “I feel as though I've known you for months instead of days."

"It's nothing. For all intents and purposes, your well-being is my responsibility. I've written to the Bishop about our situation of course, and I have no doubt we will rebuild, but I wasn't about to send you to the Inn like some ill-thought-of distant relation. Heavens, Kristopher." Kris smiled at his dramatic tone, but he wasn't finished.

"I'm speaking of more than your conduct this morning. Thank you for being a friend when I had none. I haven't, you know, had many. Not since..." Kris trailed off, remembering how much he had confessed to Adam the night prior. He hadn't meant to tell the whole truth, but there was something about Adam that made him feel as though he could say anything without fear of judgment or that it would be passed on to less worthy ears. Speaking to Adam also made him all the more aware of how lonely he had been, even before coming to Heathwick.

"Likewise." Adam said, waving his hand. "Though I regret the circumstances that brought you to Heathwick, I am glad you are here." He smiled, mildly embarrassed, and Kris couldn't help but think that the expression was charming.  Adam Lambert could be intimidating and tempestuous, of that Kristopher was certain, but he was unmistakably an honourable gentleman. "Now, with your leave..."

"I'm sorry." Kris said, laughing lightly. "I didn't mean to keep you, and I believe my bath is ready."

    A strange look crossed Adam's face as he turned and left the room, but it did not linger there long, so neither did Kristopher dwell on it.

 

***

    NEIL strode into the study where Adam had been pouring through account books.

 "Enjoying playing nursemaid, are we?"

"Sod off, Neil." Adam was in no mood to endure his brother's insinuations, not when he needed to discover how to produce enough additional funds to rebuild the church and parsonage. While he would never admit it, his years in London, coupled with the extravagance of his brother's wedding and the cost of Neil's captaincy had left the Lambert estate in a more tenuous financial position then they had been in generations. From talking to other members of the gentry in London, he knew this was not an uncommon problem; England's upper class was almost universally living about their means. Still, propriety must be maintained. It was, in some ways, fortuitous that Neil would be off at war, his basic needs taken care of.  Adam and the new Mrs. Lambert could live in a single household without raising any eyebrows, and it would save a small fortune.

"Living so long in London has done nothing for your language.” Neil said, clicking his tongue. “No, really. I had no idea the rumour about the priesthood being the choice occupation for mollys was so true. A wonder you didn't feel the calling." Adam looked up with a start. Neil's words were barbed, but there was only fondness in his expression. It was typical of Neil to use insults as a means of gaining attention, particularly when he spoke to those he was most affectionate with.  Still though, insulting Adam was one thing – speaking ill of the Reverend, only there as a result of Neil’s actions, was another matter entirely.

"I suppose you think that's funny, considering you've gone and married the love of his life.  Now you're after his manhood as well?"  Adam retorted, wondering at his sudden feeling of protectiveness. He was certain it had something to do with Kristopher's confession last night. He had already suffered so much due to a misunderstanding - Adam would hate for one of Neil's jokes to adversely affect Kristopher in his new profession.

"As you had me understand it, your preference has nothing to do with your masculinity.  Have you changed your mind? Shall I buy you something pretty in Spain? A blue gown to match your eyes?"

“ Neil…” Adam started, sighing in frustration. “I trust you take my meaning in spite of your insinuation to the contrary.  Guard your tongue lest you spoil his prospects like you spoiled his engagement."

"What is he to you?" Neil said, the smile falling off his face. "I should think you would put the happiness of your own brother ahead of some stranger."

"I simply...I empathise with his situation, given my own circumstances-"

"Which you have yet to explain to me. I get the feeling your new friend knows all about them."  In spite of his japes, Adam could tell he felt genuinely hurt. They had been close before the accident, but since Adam had left for London they only corresponded via letters and the occasional visit. Such meetings had never gone well; they had always ended with Neil trying to convince Adam to come home by offhandedly insulting his lifestyle.  To be fair, Adam supposed now that he had been looking for reasons to act indignant. Though the younger son by three years, sometimes Adam wondered if his brother was not the wiser of them.

"You've hardly been available for a brotherly chat."

"Well we can't all of us wallow in loneliness. There simply isn't ink enough for all the horrible poetry that would no doubt ensue." Neil's serious expression twitched, and Adam knew he was thinking of the horrid drivel he used to write as an adolescent. At one point, Neil had stolen his journal and critiqued all the poetry, passing final judgment on the tome with a hastily scrawled "If this is how you view your existence, I am truly sorry for your life.- NL" Adam couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. It wasn't in Neil's nature to be anything other than sarcastic.  Were he not bound for the Royal Army, Adam would have suggested he make his living as a satirist. If this conversation had turned confrontational, it was his own fault, not Neil's.  Adam had been searching for offence when his brother had intended none.

"I apologise for my ill humor.  I suppose I have been remiss in informing you why I have returned home. You've been understandably otherwise occupied and I did not wish to impinge upon your good humor with my own misfortune. In fact, as we only have a week before you depart for Spain and glory, I hardly wish to spend what little time we have discussing past unpleasantness. It will suffice to say that I left London a lonelier but wiser man than I arrived, and I do not plan on returning." Adam twirled his quill nervously, hoping that Neil would not pry. The inquisitive look on his brother's face was not a positive sign.

"Fair enough. However, I think you owe me an explanation for that little tantrum you pulled during my wedding ceremony. No music? It was my wedding, Adam, could you not grin and bear it for the sake of my happiness?  Then you disappear without even toasting our good health nor joining us for a single dance. I had to assure Katherine you meant no ill will to her, nor found fault with my choice. The poor thing is practically terrified of you, and when I told her you would be living beneath the same roof she nearly asked for a divorce.

“I...” Adam started, unsure of how he would proceed with his answer.He was a bit embarrassed over the whole situation, but the fact remained that whenever he so much as heard a melody, a strange feeling crept over his skin: a cold, clammy tingling that turned his stomach.“ ... I felt unwell after so much travel, Neil. I confess I was not myself.”Adam chided himself for playing the coward, but he had not admitted to anyone the cause of his strange aversion to music; a symptom he had only just taken notice of before his departure from London.He was well aware that it was foolish; irrational even, but he could not restrain his mind from the association. Perhaps in time... 




    Neil glanced at him dubiously, but did not raise any further inquiry. Instead, he collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the desk, leaning his head against the side of the high back.  Adam thought he looked positively childish; it was tough to believe that so many years had passed since he and Neil were routinely summoned into this very office for important paternal lectures.

“Trying few days?”

“Few weeks.” Neil replied. “But it was worth it in the end.” He smiled roguishly. “Though now that you’ve brought up Reverend Allen I’m feeling a little remorseful.”

“I don’t believe he holds it against you.” Adam said, offering a little comfort. “He blames himself, I think, for not making his intentions plain. He pinned all his hopes on her, it seems, and is a little lost without that particular goal in mind. He’s grateful, incidentally, for the words you spoke on his behalf to the Bishop. Kristopher seemed eager to settle into some semblance of a normal life here.”

“You don’t think I was...wrong to bring him here, do you?” Neil scratched at his fingers, a nervous habit he had indulged in since childhood. “Katherine was so keen on the idea, but now that I have seen them interact I feel as though I did him more harm than good.  His feelings for her were written on his face, as clear as words on a page. Do you not think he would have been better off somewhere far from her?”

“You needn’t fear for your wife’s virtue, if that’s what you’re concerned over.” Adam said, treading carefully.

“No, that’s not it.” Neil sighed loudly and wriggled in his seat. “It’s just that, without the Church here to keep him occupied, I worry I have placed him in an untenable situation.”

“It’s not your responsibility to keep him from being idle.  He can help the rebuilding effort here; perhaps assist at the parish the next county over. I am sure the Bishop will find some task to keep him occupied till our church is reconstructed. I would guess that by this time next year the repairs should be complete, taking a seasonal work stoppage into account.” Adam had seen a lot of construction during his tenure in London; there were constantly buildings being raised or razed in the West End.  In London, carpenters worked happily through the winters, but this far north he doubted the weather would permit such convenience.

Neil looked unconvinced, and Adam wondered at his sudden outburst of concern for someone who he had all too recently dismissed.

***

    KRISTOPHER could not seem to sleep. The afternoon’s exploits had taken their toll on him, physically and emotionally. Seeing his little church charred and blackened was almost too much for his heart to bear. Kris had raised his eyes to the heavens, as if in prayer, but the words that had formed in his mind were dark and angry admonishments instead of requests for guidance. Once again, God had brought him to the brink of happiness, only to snatch away the feeling at the last moment. He had never believed in fate; but now Kristopher wondered if it wasn’t his destiny to have the object of his desire dangled in front of his face, forever unattainable. He was a hound set out after the fox; forever chasing but never receiving the satisfaction of the kill.

    After their ride – Adam had insisted they make the journey on horseback, which was ridiculous considering the proximity – Kristopher had returned to (a freshly-made) bed, trying his best to follow the doctor’s orders. He had eventually drifted off to sleep, missing dinner altogether. The sleep had done him well, but now...Kristopher pushed aside the heavy down blanket and stretched. The moon was high in the sky, casting long shadows where it shone though his window. Rising, he marvelled that he didn’t even need to light a lamp to see into the open wardrobe across the room from his bed. From it he removed a pair of black breeches, sliding them on beneath his nightshirt. They were slightly loose; Adam had mentioned that the local tailor would pay them a visit tomorrow. Until then, he had to make do with clothes borrowed from Neil, who was slightly shorter than Adam. Even so, the length was ridiculous, and Kristopher was grateful that he had been wearing his high boots the day before. His other footwear had been lost along with the bulk of his clothing. As an afterthought, he pulled a black coat over his nightshirt, tucking the long white garment into his breaches. His hair was mussed, he supposed, but he did not expect to meet with anyone in the middle of the night.

    As he opened the door to the drawing room that he shared with Adam, it occurred to him that that Adam’s bedroom must be through the door on the other side. The fire was still burning brightly, so Kristopher surmised Adam had only just retired. He thought about knocking to see if Adam was awake, but dismissed the idea quickly. On the side table sat a loaf of bread and few slices of cheese, accompanied by an apple. Apparently Adam had guessed he would be hungry when he awoke. Kris ate eagerly, helping himself to the mug of ale that sat aside the small repast. He sighed contentedly for a moment before his eyes drifted out onto the back garden. Far beyond the fenced in garden he could see the hill where the parsonage ought to proudly stand. Only a sad black pile of rubble obstructed his view of the church, the damage sinister looking in the moonlight. He turned away from the window and padded quietly to the hall.

    Heathwick was a quiet place, by Kris’s estimation. He wondered if it had always been so. Picturing Adam and Neil as boys, he somewhat doubted it. It was a large home and should rightly be filled by a large family, parties given for any reason one could fathom. Maybe one day it would be, Kris thought a little sadly.

    He wandered down onto the first floor, simply enjoying the look of the house at night. The rooms looked different by moonlight, especially the parlour where he had seen the portrait of the Lambert family. He studied the painting again, feeling free to do so now that he was sure he would not be interrupted. Neil, grinning brightly, held a little toy soldier. Adam, standing in front of his father, clutched a rolled up piece of paper, and in the low light Kris could just make out the music notes written on it. Their expressions looked different in the darkness. Neil’s smile looked colder – not quite sinister, but he seemed to be gently mocking the artist. Adam’s seriousness was softened; he looked more sadly resigned than grim in this light.

    Kris moved on from the parlour, making his way down a corridor to the library. Kris had not seen this entire wing; his tour had been cut short by the fire. He felt awkward about exploring on his own, but curiosity got the better of his manners. Just past the library was a heavy set of wooden double doors, one of which was propped open.

    Moonlight flooded from the open door, and when Kris entered the room, he was surprised by the view. It was a conservatory. The floor was stone tile and the wall adjoining the conservatory to the house was brick, as if this room had not been part of the original design. The rest of the walls, as well as the ceiling, were made of glass, hundreds of segments of glass all rimmed in green copper. The glass on the ceiling was vaulted, the centre peaking and gently sloping to the curved wall facing the back garden.

    Just beneath where the peak of the roof met the sloping ridges of copper sat a black grand piano, shining in the moonlight. The moment was perfect, and Kris felt God’s presence in it. He felt compelled to walk to the instrument and run his hands over the smooth black finish. It was cold to the touch, but not forbidding. Looking out over the garden, he again took in the view of the ruined church.

“Why?” Kris asked no one in particular. Aware that he had spoken aloud, he sat on the piano bench and continued his questioning silently. Why had God sent him here if He was only going to destroy the reason for which he had come? Going back further, every blessing for which he had ever thanked God now seemed more like a step along the path to bring him to his own personal desolation. When he had been forbidden to spend time with his friends, with poor Mark Thompson, he found solace in the teachings of the church. Suddenly, his father’s mandate that he enter the clergy did not seem like such an awful turn of events. When he had met Katherine O’Connell, part of him believed that she was literally an Angel sent by God to avail him of his loneliness. When he grew old enough to feel an attraction for her, he thanked God for sending him “natural” desires rather than sinful temptations. Even after Katy had been snatched from him, Kris believed that perhaps it was part of God’s divine will that he be sent to North Gate, to minister to the villagers that lived and worked the land that belonged to Heathwick. He felt a purpose; that although his own plans were not coming to fruition, he could at least take satisfaction in the work to which he had pledged his life. That perhaps, in surrendering his desires, he was serving God’s will instead of his own. Perhaps that was the entire purpose behind his feelings for Katherine, to bring him to Heathwick.

    Now he was not so sure God had a plan for him. Kris slid his hands over the keys, not really intending to play, but before he knew it a chord broke the silence. Even though he had been responsible for the sound, it startled him. He rose from the piano and closed the hall door, not wanting to disturb anyone.

    He returned to the bench and let his hands direct the song. He had been an adequate musician before beginning his studies, but in the lonely years that followed, he had become quite accomplished. One of his favourite activities had been to play chords on the piano, resting his head on the body of the instrument so that he could feel the vibration. He would hold the chord until it had faded into nothingness, then blindly move his hand to another chord, letting the sound linger as he whispered his emotion. It wasn’t composing, not really, but it had always felt right. Like prayer, he supposed, interspersed with music. He mumbled words now, words that begged for some sort of answer.

    Heathwick was supposed to have been his destination, the answer to all the questions he had been asking himself since he was a boy. All that work, all that studying – and more recently, the suffering of his heart. This is what it was supposed to have been for? Without the church, why was he here? Where was God leading him? Was he leading him at all? He prayed as the chords dwindled and died, for answers to those questions and to deeper, unasked questions. He prayed for clarity of purpose, he prayed for unity of spirit. Feeling selfish, he even prayed for a love that would replace his love for Katy, though he knew that God should not concern himself over such prosaic affairs. Most of all, though, he begged God to provide an answer to the only question he had asked aloud.

“Why?”

    He was willing to endure anything, as long as he was certain it was God’s will. That certainty had been stolen from him, and more than anything Kristopher Allen needed to know that God was certain; even if Kris could not grasp the entire scope of his plan.

    The chords came faster now, his words becoming a sort of chant that pulled the melody along with it. If God Himself could not provide the reassurance Kristopher so desperately needed, perhaps he could find it in the music. Maybe God was there, in the resonance of notes interacting with one another. The thought blossomed and Kris closed his eyes, letting his doubts vanish in the chords of his prayer as even that sound faded into silence.

 

“You play beautifully.”

Kris jumped at the sound of someone speaking; Adam’s unmistakable voice, to be sure. He leapt up from the piano as if caught stealing food from the kitchen.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I hope...I hope I have not woken the entire house.”

“Nonsense, I was still awake. The moon was so bright I couldn’t sleep – the downside, I suppose to a view of the back garden. I could have drawn the drapes, I suppose, but it was so beautiful I couldn’t bear to. I went for a walk and when I returned from the fairy world, for that’s how it appeared, I heard faint music. I followed it, just to prove to myself I could, and here you are.” Adam said, walking to the piano and resting his elbow on it, chin poised on his closed fist.

“To prove you could?” Kris was unsure of what Adam could mean. He certainly would know where the piano was in his own house – tracking the source of the music would not be a difficult path.

“When I was growing up, music was my solace. I was ... aware at a young age that I would not grow into the heir that my father dreamed I would be. He and mother would often discuss possible matches for me, and the thought made me dread attaining the age of majority, where I would be forced into a marriage I had no use for. When I sang, those worries disappeared. They were so proud of my voice – I would sing for company, for every party. It was the one area of my life with which I felt they would be content. After they died, I realised how foolish I had been. Had I been honest with them from the beginning, they would not have placed such expectations on me. It is a pity that I did not trust them then as I know I ought to have.”

“I’m sorry.” Kris said after a long moment, not sure what the story was meant to impart. “I am sure they would be proud of you now.” Adam snorted, shaking his head.

“It’s kind of you to say so. I wouldn’t want them to see me, as I am now – so heartbroken that the one pastime I truly loved as a child now brings me nothing but sadness. Sadness and bitter memories.” 

Kris remained silent, unsure if Adam would continue.

“Does this have to do with your...with Bradley, if I remember correctly?” Kris asked finally, placing his hand gently on Adam’s shoulder.

“He was a singer. A tenor, like you. You would have to be a tenor, wouldn’t you?” Adam said, tilting his head to eye Kris sideways. “ No, don’t apologise. It wasn’t of your making. When he sang for me, I forgot I had a voice.”

“Was he that well-voiced?” Kris wondered aloud.

“It wasn’t about that. Of course Bradley was talented, but it was the manner with which he sang. That I knew he sang for me – he became the music in my life. I no longer needed to make it for myself. When he left me, I tried to listen to him sing again and I could not bear it. Soon, I realised that it was not only him singing – it was anyone. Anyone at all. Kristopher, music had been my life in London. The theatre, all my friends, they were all performers. When I could no longer bear music, I knew I had to leave. Heathwick was my only option. In order to run from the memories of Bradley and London, I needed to face the ones at Heathwick. A man cannot run forever.”

“That’s why you stopped the music at the wedding – why you stayed away from the reception. The music.” Kris said, realisation dawning.

“I suppose you think I’m touched. And a coward to boot.” Adam said, covering his eyes with his hand, arm still propped on the piano.”

“Not at all, Adam. Music was my retreat as well; if someone had taken it from me I would be just as lost.”

“Taken it from you?”

“When your family portrait was painted, you chose to carry music as a symbol of the person you were.” Kris said, feeling confident of his words. You said that Bradley had become the music in your life. That you no longer needed to sing because he sang to you. That sort of surrender, Adam, forgive me, I do not think you should give up something that is so much a part of you. I think you need to take it back. You need to reclaim that part of yourself.” Adam did not look up, but Kris felt his shoulder tremble beneath his palm. “I’ll help you.” He heard himself say, and moved back to the piano bench.

“Now?” Adam said, springing up.

“There is no time more fitting than the hour God hath ordained.” Kris said, quoting his former teacher. “I am sure I can discover something we both know.”

“Something soft.” Adam said quietly. “A sad song, maybe.” Kris smiled in spite of the sombre suggestion, happy that Adam seemed willing to let him try and help.

“I know just the thing. I’ll start” Kris’s hands glided over the keys, teasing out the minor melody to “The Willow.”

_O take me in your arms, love_ _   
_ _For keen doth the wind blow_ _   
_ _O take me in your arms, love_ _   
_ _For bitter is my deep woe._

Kris sang, looking up at Adam, who nodded that he knew the song. He watched Adam breathe deeply, eyes shining in the moonlight.

_My wealth is lost, my friend is false_ _   
_ _My love hath he stolen from me_ _   
_ _While here I lie alone_ _   
_ _To die beneath the willow tree._

Kris tiled his head, confused. Adam had sung the last verse rather than the first. Kris took the melody, singing the first verse to get them back on track.

_She hears me not, she heeds me not_ _   
_ _Nor will she listen to me_ _   
_ _While here I lie alone_ _   
_ _To die beneath the willow tree._

Adam smiled, and repeated the chorus , playing lightly with the melody. His voice was tentative but beautiful, like an icicle on a winter morning.

Kris continued with the song, identifying with the original composer all too well.

_My love hath wealth and beauty_ _   
_ _Rich suitors attend her door_ _   
_ _My love hath wealth and beauty_ _   
_ _She slights me because I am poor_

Kris intended to sing the next verse, but Adam cut him off, inserting a different verse instead:

_I once had gold and silver_ _   
_ _I thought them without end_ _   
_ _I once had gold and silver_ _   
_ _I thought I had a true friend._

All of a sudden, Kris smiled. He saw Adam’s genius in leaving for him the parts of the song that Kris would empathise with, claiming the rest for his own. Kristopher sang the remaining verse:

_The ribbon fair that bound her hair_ _   
_ _Is all that is left to me_ _   
_ _While here I lie alone_ _   
_ _To die beneath the willow tree._

He caught Adam’s eye and they began the chorus together, Adam improvising a high descant over Kris’s strong melody. Adam’s range was phenomenal, reaching to a beautiful counter-tenor.

_O take me in your arms, love_ _   
_ _For keen doth the wind blow_ _   
_ _O take me in your arms, love_ _   
_ _For bitter is my deep woe._

    The sounds of their voices faded along with the piano, and Kris rose. Adam’s shoulders were shaking lightly again, and Kris could just make out his tears in the reflection of the moonlight.

“You should never give up your voice for another again, Adam. “ Kris said, stilling Adam’s shoulders beneath his hands. “Love is not giving up who you are. I might not know much of love, but of that much I am certain.”

A strangled sound escaped Adam’s mouth, and before Kristopher realised what was happening, Adam’s arms were about him.

    He had not been embraced by anyone except his own mother since he had snuck off to the docks to see Mark Thompson the day he left. He had been so excited to join the Navy, and to see Kris again, that he forgot all about propriety and embraced his former friend. The sensation was not unwelcome, and Kristopher found himself returning the embrace.

“I’m sorry.” Adam said, straightening at once. “I did not mean to take liberties...”

“There is nothing to apologise for. We are friends, are we not? Nothing licentious in embracing a friend.” Kristopher said, squeezing Adam’s shoulder to show that he meant it. ****

“Perhaps we could sing together again. If you like.” Adam said, breathing deeply. “I think it helped. It hurt, Kristopher, but I think it helped.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Kris responded. “You’ve done so much for me. This is the least I can do.”

“Oh no. Do not feel that you must attend to me out of obligation-“

“That was not the emotion I intended to convey.” Kris said, chastising himself for his poor choice of words. “I...it would please me to see you happy again. If I could play some small part that happiness I would feel that maybe my coming here had a purpose after all.”

“Thank you, Kristopher.” Adam said, wiping his eyes. “I feel as though I might hug you again.”

“If you must.” Kris teased, holding out his arms. Adam enfolded him again, and Kris was overwhelmed with a feeling of peace with the direction God had pointed him.

 

***

 

“HAVE you been sleeping well, Mr. Lambert?” Katherine asked a few mornings later at breakfast. She was dressed in a cornflower blue empire waisted down, and for the first time that Adam had seen, she was wearing a bonnet. It was also the first time since Neil had departed on a short trip that she had joined Adam and Reverend Allen for breakfast.

“I ... in fact I have. I hope the absence of your husband is not a discomfort. Heathwick can be intimidating before you get to know her.” Adam remembered that Neil had spoken of Katy’s nervousness about him, and he vowed to set his new sister at ease. “Have you been sleeping well?”

“I have, thank you, except these last few nights I’ve woken in the middle of the night, sure that I could hear music. I would have risen to investigate, but as you say, Heathwick is not home to me yet.”

“I am sure she will be, someday.” Adam cast a sly glance at Kristopher, who busied himself with a piece of toasted bread. Every evening they had met in the conservatory through some unspoken arrangement. They played though the folk songs that Kristopher knew by heart, and Adam sang some modern numbers he had learned at the theatre. Before long, Kris could improvise a piano accompaniment. Some mornings they played until the sky turned pink and they would dash off to bed like misbehaving schoolboys, stifling their laughter at the absurdity of sneaking about in Adam’s own house. It was fun to have a secret, though, and Kris intrinsically understood that the privacy helped Adam to overcome his emotions.

“Were either of your parents musicians?” Katy asked nervously.

“Not as such,” Adam replied, “Mother was adequate on the piano. Why do you ask?” Katy blushed and Adam realised she had been implying that Heathwick was haunted. He stifled a laugh, which made her frown. “I assure you, the spirits of my parents are safely at rest, and should they ever decide to pay us a visit I should hope they would do something more productive than play piano in the small hours of the morning.”

“Maybe it was the wind.” Kris supplied. “Or perhaps you were dreaming.”

“If it makes you sleep any easier, I’ll check the house tonight after you have retired.” Adam offered.

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Katy said, finishing her tea as the servant cleared away her plate. “I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned over.” There was something in her expression that worried Adam, tightness playing over her lips as she glanced at Kristopher. “I am sure it’s only me being silly. Mr. Lambert will delight in teasing me when he returns.”

“Where has Neil gone?” Kristopher asked, colouring a little once he had realiszed his lack of propriety in contrast to Mrs. Lambert’s crisp mannerisms. Adam wondered at Katherine’s formality, truth be told. They were family now, and from what Kris had indicated, Katherine had never been one to stand on ceremony. Perhaps it was because she was married now, and endeavoured to be more like the ideal of a woman grown. Like as not it was because she was in the company of two men without her husband, though Adam supposed he should be considered an acceptable chaperone.

“He said he had a few business affairs to attend to before he departed. He’s not entirely idle, you know, he has several lucrative investments. I suppose he’ll ask you to mind them while he’s away, Mr. Lambert.”

“Please, sister, feel free to use my given name, especially in such familiar company.” Adam said, smiling warmly.

“Very well, Adam.” She replied politely, but did not return the nicety.

“Do you expect your husband to return soon?” Kris enquired, trying to engage Katherine in conversation.

“He said he would only be gone four days, though I can’t pretend to know anything about his business. It is always possible he could be detained. It is my hope that he will return on the morrow, provided the weather holds. It would be nice to spend more time with him before he leaves for Spain.” Katy paused as if unsure about continuing the dialogue. “Have you given any thought to what you might do until the church is rebuilt?”

“I had assumed he would stay here.” Adam asserted, feeling as though he was suddenly intruding.

“It’s probably for the Bishop to decide.” Kris said quietly, glancing at Adam. The idea that Kris might not be permitted to stay at Heathwick had not occurred to Adam and it left him with a funny ache in his stomach when he considered the possibility. Adam has not noticed how quickly he had grown used to the idea of having someone to call a friend nearby, of having someone to whom he could speak with honestly and openly about his past without fear of judgment. Then there was the music...Adam had been unable, no, unwilling to listen to music, much less make it, since Bradley had left him all those months ago. Since Kristopher had befriended him, music was part of his life once more. With Kris at his side, he found he could not only listen to music, but he could become part of it.

“...he’ll give me a choice, of course, but I would be a prize fool not to acquiesce to his preference this early in my career.” Kristopher continued. “I do hope, if he has other work for me this upcoming year, that he will be in support of me returning. I’ve found the people of North Gate – especially those here at Heathwick, most welcoming. He smiled softly and Adam felt a warm tingling trip its way down his spine and spread throughout his stomach like warm cider with brandy. The sense memory of Kris’s body fitting tightly alongside his on the piano bench made the small distance between them at the breakfast table seem like unfathomable miles. Could there soon be actual miles between them? Adam bit his lip – it hardly seemed fair that this new friendship so soon diminish into a fleeting acquaintance.

 

***

 

    AT the usual hour, Kris waited in the conservatory for Adam. Given Katherine’s concerns that the house was haunted due to their musical meetings, he hesitated even coming, but Adam had murmured “See you this evening...” low in his throat as they chanced to pass in the hallway. Knowing that they were indeed sneaking this time made the rendezvous feel illicit, though Kris reassured himself it was anything but.

    Kris was wearing some of his new clothing; the tailor had delivered it that morning and it felt good to wear clothes that fit him again rather than the too-large cast offs of Adam or Neil. The colour of his breeches and modern tail coat was a light tan that complimented the maroon of his new waistcoat handsomely. Most of his destroyed clothing had been more old fashioned, so Kristopher felt quite dapper sporting the new style. He had even taken a moment to make sure his hair was properly dishevelled, as was au currant. The moon was still bright, though not enough to see by, so Kristopher had lit two of the lamps closest to him and set his candle atop the piano, sending ghosts of the light dancing across the polished black surface. He studied the music a moment, leaning against his knee with one foot on the bench.

“Beautiful.”

Kris straightened and turned towards Adam, all-too-aware of the blush on his cheeks. He opened his mouth but words had fled from him, so he just exhaled softly.

“It suits you.” Adam continued, cocking his head slightly. “The tailor knows his job. Good to know I shan’t have to order my winter clothing from London after all.” Kris had a moment to explain to his stomach that it needn’t get all figgelty over a little compliment as Adam turned to close the door behind him, but he was soon at Kristopher’s side. Adam’s proximity did little to calm him. “I brought us a little something.” Adam pulled a flask from his inner pocket, wiggling it a little. “You said you’d share a drink with me, and I intend on holding you to it.”

He held out the flask and Kris took it, his fingers brushing against Adam’s as the container changed hands. Perhaps a small amount would settle his nerves. He held the flask to his lips a long time, taking only a small sip.

“That’s a lad.” Adam said, taking the flask back and taking a long pull himself. “Better make liberal use of la una chorda tonight, lest we wake the Missus.”

“She isn’t our _mother_, Adam. I don’t know why we simply didn’t tell her.”

“I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell her?” Adam said, blue eyes levelling him as though they both knew why he had kept silent.

“I was worried she would ask us not to play. We could not, in good conscious, refuse such a simple request.” Kris said finally, studying the lay of the stone tile. He traced the grout lines, but they all led back to Adam’s black shoes. Looking at his shoes compelled Kris to follow up the long, slim line of his legs, tracing the soft curve of his breeches rounding into his lower back and up till he was looking at Adam’s face once again.

“We could have changed to a more civil hour, I suppose.” Adam offered, though it seemed to Kris that he was suggesting it more to hear Kris’s response than because he thought it was a preferable option.

“Then...then you should have to invite her, I think, to sit and listen. Isn’t that what a gentleman would do?”

“And as we are both gentlemen, Kristopher, then surely we should have extended the invitation. Yet you did not. Why, I wonder?”

“Some of these songs...well, singing them with you has helped me. Helped me forget the life I thought I would have, and look forward to something else – to falling in love again. It was my understanding that your emotional state with regards to music was something you wanted to keep private. That is, I feel as though this - that the music, is a bond between us that we both would rather keep as it is. Unless I missed the mark entirely. I have, haven’t I? Oh heavens...” Kris reached for the flask and swallowed deeply, wanting to wash away the awkward taste of the words on his tongue.

“Not at all, my dear Kristopher. I am glad you and I are one in this regard.” Adam paused. “Enjoying the scotch?” Kris had been drinking through Adam’s entire remark. Kris coughed a bit at the sting of it, spilling a little of the drink as he swallowed forcibly.

“Yes. Quite good, forgive me.” Kris said, setting the flask on the piano and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Shame to waste it.” Adam said, catching his hand and kissing the alcohol away, as if it were the most normal gesture in the world. “Tis excellent Scotch.” Kris’s breath hitched in his throat as Adam looked up at him, head still low over his hand but eyes riveted up towards Kristopher’s face. Their eyes held a moment before Kris tore the contact asunder, praying that he might endure the temptation he felt as Adam’s lips had met his skin.

“Adam – “ He began, not knowing how to finish the statement. Adam was not trying to press any sort of advantage. In fact he was now staring at the sheet music for “The Little Turtledove” intently, and though Kris had never before seen him exhibit any embarrassment, Kris could swear he was blushing now, his cheeks a faint rose in the glow of the candlelight.

“Yes?” Adam responded, without taking his eyes off the music.

“Shall we?” Kris gestured at the music and Adam nodded.

“Of course. Softly now.” Adam said, and he began the song, his tenor almost a whisper.

_O can't you see yon little turtle dove_ _   
_ _Sitting under the mulberry tree?_ _   
_ _See how that she doth mourn for her true love:_ _   
_ _And I shall mourn for thee, my dear,_ _   
_ _And I shall mourn for thee._

Neither man noticed the door had been pushed open a bit, and now swung gently closed so as not to make a sound.

 

*******

**   
**

    ADAM paced in the stable, eager for them to be on their way. He had made arrangements to go riding with Kristopher today, there was an architect whom they would be meeting at an Inn not ten miles from Heathwick and they would accompany him back to the church, should he prove amiable. Kristopher was late, however, as Neil had requested a moment to speak with him in private.

The grooms had saddled up two bay horses, and Adam chose the one with two white socks, patting him fondly on the nose.

“That’s Marie, and thissun is Antoinetta.”

“Are you fond of the French?” Adam asked, laughing as Marie tossed her head.

“Fond of French dames, I am. Did a few years on The Grasshopper afore the cap’n ran her aground ‘long the coast of Marseilles. Had a good bit of fun ‘afore the froggies tossed me in jail. There ain’t nuthink for a ride like a French girl, if you don’t mind me sayin, gub.”

“I do actually” Adam said, wrinkling his nose.

“Sorry, sir. The young Mister, he donnae mind.” The groom didn’t look very sorry, adjusting the bit in Marie’s mouth as though he had not just offended his employer. “Be that as it may, sir, you won’t find a better mount in the stable.”

“That will be all.” Adam nodded curtly, dismissing the verbose man as Kristopher walked up, face pale.

“I say, Allen, you look like you’ve met with a fright. What say you?” Adam asked, careful to keep propriety in front of the help. Kris hesitated a moment before mounting Antoinetta, adjusting the stirrups to the proper height.

“Kristopher?” Adam asked again when he had mounted, pitching his voice low so that they would be overheard.

“Might we be able to discuss this at a later time? I suddenly find myself rather short on time. Let’s be away.” Kris said curtly, pressing his heels into the bay mare’s sides. Adam was quick to follow.

“If this is about last night...my indiscretion, I beg your forgiveness. My close friends in London, men and women both, we were always affectionate without thinking about what was entirely proper. I confess that I feel so at ease in your company that I forgot myself.” Adam said, recalling how he had briefly pressed his lips to Kris’s hand to catch the drop of scotch that had fallen there. He did not mention how his heart had raced at the contact, nor how Kris had licked his lips ever so slightly when their eyes had connected. For a moment, Adam thought that he could see longing written there, but if there had been it was gone before Adam could truly recognise it.

“Nothing intended, nothing to forgive.” Kris intoned, keeping his eyes steadily ahead.

“Thank you. It shan’t happen again.” Adam said, urging Marie on a bit faster to keep pace with his companion.

Kristopher did not speak again till they had reached their destination. During the meeting with the architect, a man called Brown, Kristopher nodded when appropriate, but did not seem to be paying attention. Mr. Brown’s qualifications seemed to be in order, but Adam did not want to hire someone that Reverend Allen did not approve of; if they were to be working together throughout the next year it was important that their personalities not conflict.

“Very good. I shall let you know of our decision tomorrow, Mr. Brown. The Reverend and I have sudden, pressing matters we must attend with this afternoon. Forgive me for cancelling our tour of the site.”

“Good day, Gentleman.” Mr. Brown replied, rising and bowing. “I look forward to your favourable response and to working together on the restoration.”

Kristopher bowed as well and followed Adam out of the inn.

“I have not known you long, Allen, but I have never known you to be rude.” Adam chided. “How long am I to wait for an explanation of your behaviour?”

“Will you follow me?” Kris asked quietly, looking at Adam at last. There was sadness in his eyes, and fear as well. Adam nodded, not knowing what other action he could take. He was captive with worry for the man beside him. Though Adam could repair the damage to the church, and replace the belongings that had been destroyed in the fire, he feared the pending disaster was beyond his reach.

 

***

 

    KRISTOPHER rode towards Heathwick and past it, to a grove of pine trees he had noticed on his first day in North Gate. It was over the hill behind which the parsonage and church were situated, an outcropping of an ancient forest that had not been cleared for farmland.

“I played here as a boy.” Adam said as they slowed to a walk, the horses breathing heavily with the effort of a long run. “There should be a pond a little bit ahead, should the girls like something to drink.” He patted his horse on the neck and she gave an appreciative snort.

    Kris and Adam dismounted and led the horses into the forest on foot, the branches too low to permit riding easily. Adam tethered the horses to a length of rope wrapped once around a tree, allowing them to graze on the green ferns that grew beneath the pines and drink from the forest pool. Kristopher sat on a fallen log, watching Adam tend to the horses with a sinking feeling in his stomach. There were so many things he had yet to experience at Heathwick, with Adam, and now...

“I’m leaving, Mr. Lambert.” Kris blurted out, oddly formal at a sudden. Adam snapped his head up from where he had been securing the reins behind Marie’s head.

“Leaving? What is this?”

“Neil informed me this morning that the Bishop thought it a waste of resources to have me stay at a Church that doesn’t exist at present. Can’t say that I argue with him, really.”

“Nonsense, Kristopher. The small folk here will have need of you – weddings, baptisms...surely we could consecrate some space temporarily.” Adam’s jaw was hard set, and Kris could see that he had worked very hard to convince himself of this argument already. Adam did not want him to leave, and had considered the circumstances under which he might be forced to already, in spite of his surprise at its mention.

“There is another parish not twenty miles hence,” Kris gestured south with a wave of his arm, “and the Bishop feels that God is calling me towards another way to serve while the church here is being reconstructed.”

“You shall return then?” Adam said hurriedly. “Then I shall ride back to North Gate at once and alert Mr. Brown that he is to start tomorrow. The sooner the church is complete the sooner we shall have you home.”

“The date of my return, if I return at all, is in God’s hands.” Kris put his head in his hands, willing himself not to show that he was afraid. After all, it had been his dearest wish as a child to wear a uniform and fight for his country. This was almost the same. “I don’t think you quite understand...”

“Tell me.” Adam said, dropping to one knee in the dirt at Kristopher’s feet. “Where does he want you to go.”

“Your brother’s unit lacks a chaplain.” Kris said, unable to keep the sadness from his voice. “My services have been officially requested by Neil’s commanding officer, and who am I to refuse?”

“You are my...”Adam paused. “You are my dear friend and I shan’t allow you to be used thus. You have barely begun to make a life here and to be uprooted by mere happenstance-“

“Perhaps it’s not mere happenstance.” Kris said, looking up at last. “Though I am afraid, what if it is God’s will that I accompany your brother? What if that was my purpose all along. I’ve been praying for an answer as to why I was sent here, tormented by the things I cannot have, and now it seems clear.” Kristopher placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder, feeling his quickened breath in the rise and fall of his chest. “I do not like the path, Adam. But who am I to question it? Who has more need of me, country folk or dying men? Wounded soldiers afraid of their ends, or you?”

“You could die.” Adam said, his blue eyes full of tears. “You could be wounded yourself.”

“It’s very true.” Kristopher admitted. “But if God has appointed the hour of my death, it will do me no good to hide from it. I must have faith that His grace will allow me to return.”

“Would that I had your faith.” Adam said, rising and turning away.

“I have enough for us both.” Kristopher replied, wishing for all the world that he were a better liar.

 

***

 

    ADAM arrived in the conservatory first, which alarmed him. Perhaps Kris was not planning on coming? They had agreed to get a good night’s sleep after Kristopher’s news the day prior, but as they had toured the grounds with Mr. Brown, Kris had looked towards the glass conservatory and raised his eyebrows hopefully.  It was to be his last night at Heathwick. Tomorrow, Kristopher and Neil would set out by carriage for London and then Portsmouth, beyond, where they would board a frigate destined for Spain. The journey would take them a better part of a fortnight, and Neil wanted to leave with plenty of time.

“Are you here, Lambert?” Kristopher asked, entering the room, candle lighting his face attractively. Adam swallowed once, hard, before calling back.

“Here I am.”

“Glad you are.” Kris returned, and Adam clenched his jaw tightly as he thought of how much he would miss these late night meetings. If he was honest with himself, and Adam prided himself on such honesty, it was far more than the music that he would think of with fondness. It was having a friend here that made Heathwick feel like home. He was attracted to Kristopher, to be sure, but Adam was unsure as to how Kris really felt about his proclivity towards other men. Kris had certainly admitted to a youthful dalliance with another boy, but such things were not always so simple. He clearly had longed for Katherine before she was married, and Adam suspected part of him loved her still. Then there was his religious conviction to consider. Though forced into the priesthood by a fearful father, it was clear that Kristopher was no charlatan. How much of the doctrine did he believe?

No, it was easier to count himself lucky that Reverend Allen had extended the hand of friendship, where many in his station would have shunned Adam had he been so honest about his nature.

“Shall we?” Kris asked, gesturing to the piano. “I selected something for the occasion, if you don’t mind.” He placed a single sheet of music at the piano. “I wrote it from memory, so forgive me if some of the chords are off, or if I remembered the words incorrectly.

“Of course.” Adam said, bending over Kris’s shoulder to see the piece.

_Farewell, but whenever you welcome the hour_ _   
_ _That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,_ _   
_ _Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too,_ _   
_ _And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you._ _   
_ _His griefs may return, not a hope may remain,_ _   
_ _Of the few that had brighten'd his pathway of pain,_ _   
_ _But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw,_ _   
_ _It's enchantment around him, while ling'ring with you._

_Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,_ _   
_ _Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,_ _   
_ _Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,_ _   
_ _And bring back the features that joy used to wear._ _   
_ _Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd,_ _   
_ _Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd._ _   
_ _You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,_ _   
_ _But the scent of the roses will hang 'round it still._

“Kristopher...” Adam exhaled. “I fear I cannot sing this.”

“Sing it with me.” Kris entreated, and if the tempo he chose was slower than was traditional neither mentioned it. Adam willed his voice not to break as he thought of the meaning implicit in the words; that Kristopher felt their friendship as keenly as Adam had. Their voices were not similar, and had he heard Kristopher’s tenor in London he might have dismissed it altogether, but it had a cloying nature that drew you in as he sang. Often while the daylight hours passed Adam would find himself missing the sound of Kris’s singing voice, honeyed and golden compared to his own. Yet as strange as it may be, their voices had found a match in one another, perhaps not a match so much as a partner. Adam’s own tone, silvery and clear as moonlight was perfect as it flew above the earthiness of Kris’s melody.

All too quickly the song was over, and Kris looked at him a long time before either of them spoke.

“I hope our friendship has made this last month easier for you.” Adam said, speaking haltingly.

“Same, though I am sure I speak for both of us when I say it has. Were it not for you I should have been unspeakably lonely.” Kris said, tongue tripping on the words. “I would hate for you to be thinking of London as home still. I would hate for you to be thinking of him...”

“In truth, I have not thought of him for days. It has been a blessing.” It was true. Between the destruction of the church, his business affairs, and outings with Kristopher, Adam had not even had time to utter the name Bradley Bell in his sleep. In his dreams, a different pair of brown eyes haunted him now, but Adam kept such thoughts safely in his sleep.

“Good.” Kristopher said, hesitating a moment before blowing out the candle atop the piano and rising, altogether too close to Adam, but he did not relinquish any ground.

“Kristopher? Are we through for the evening?” Adam asked, voice shaking again but for an entirely different reason. Kristopher’s face was resolute, jaw set firm and eyes unreadable in the dim light of the waning moon.

“Adam. I would be for you as he was.” Kristopher said, drawing even closer, so that their chests were almost in contact. Adam’s mind reeled with the proximity as the meaning of his words became clear. “You’ve awakened such hunger in me, a hunger I had long thought dead. I pretended to be glad it had left me, but in truth...” Kris tilted his head and met Adam’s lips in a kiss, tentative and fragile though it was, “... I mourned it.”

Adam closed his eyes and let Kristopher kiss him again, parting his lips ever so slightly so as to slip his tongue over Kris’s full mouth, tasting sugared brandy and spice.

“Kristopher” Adam hissed as Kris lowered his head, panting and desperate to explore Adam’s neck with his tongue. The hour was late, and Adam had not bothered to tie his ascot, leaving it loosely tucked into his shirt. The silken fabric was soon lying forgotten on the floor as Kris’s shaking arms wrapped around him.

“I cannot pretend I know what should be done.” Kris mumbled, his voice thick and pliant. “I only know what I want to do.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” Adam said, kissing the top of Kris’s head as Kris buried his face into Adam’s chest and held him close. He ran his hands slowly down the curve of Kristopher’s back, hesitating a moment before dipping lower and caressing the soft flesh beneath his breeches. Kris gasped at the contact, drawing a hard breath against Adam’s linen shirt. Kris raised his head to look at Adam as one would look upon a rapidly disappearing shore.

“I should like to get on my knees for you, that is, should you wish it.”

Adam moaned softly, stiffening against the press of Kristopher’s leg. The very idea of Kris re-enacting his boyhood fumbling was enough to set his nerves aflame, and even if it hadn’t been, Kristopher slid his hand between their bodies, running a gentle palm against his prick as though to soothe the ache. Adam bit his own lip sharply. This was better than any fevered dream he had permitted himself in the small hours of the morning, but there was something disturbing in Kristopher’s eyes, and though his prick was quite willing to comply with the intended course of action, Adam wanted to be sure of the intent behind it

“Do you wish it?” Kris asked, already lowering himself. Adam caught his elbows and held him up.

“I do.” Adam admitted, and he did, impossibly so. The thought of Kris’s generous mouth around him was almost too much to bear. “But are you certain this is what you desire?”

“Adam.” Kris said his name again, trembling in his arms. “I know I might have acted unafraid, but I must confess that I am. I could die in Spain, I could die and my soul...”

“You will not die.” Adam interrupted, pulling Kris closer.

“I may.” Kris continued. “And if I do, my soul...I know I shall go to the Devil.” Adam was momentarily shocked, wondering if perhaps Kristopher was making an ill timed joke. The look on his face was so serious, however, that Adam merely looked at him as if to beg elaboration. “I have sinned, Adam, and I have not been repentant.” Kris explained. “I’ve been prideful, and slothful, impudent... but of all those things, Adam, what shall damn me is my lust. The thoughts I have harboured in secret, the desires I have borne in silence. Not just recently. For years, Adam.” Adam considered this for what appeared to be a long while, not understanding how this fear played into Kristopher’s actions. As if on instinct, he kept his arms wrapped tightly around Kris, letting him confess his fears into the safe confines of Adam’s waistcoat.

“Unless I very much miss my mark, you have not acted on those thoughts. Surely the desire alone is not enough to condemn you.” Adam responded, ignoring his own questions at present, deciding instead to focus on Kris’s self-doubt.

“The Lord knows my heart, and unless it is pure, I shall not go to heaven when I die. And if I know I am broken beyond repair, why...why shouldn’t I?” He mumbled his question, more to himself than to Adam. “Why should I burn for sins uncommitted, why not at least experience what I have longed for since I first lay eyes upon you.”

“Kristopher, I fear I shall not be able to resist you, though my good judgement tells me I should.” Adam confessed, his willpower diminishing as he felt Kris rise against him, hard and eager beneath the tight fabric.

“Let me give you my sin.” Kristopher raised his head and kissed Adam again, fire between his lips. Adam groaned into his mouth, his restraint hanging by a thread pulled so taught a breeze could snap it. His hips twitched and Kris’s eyes went wide. He broke the kiss, running his hands down Adam’s sides again, turning inward as they found the waistband of Adam’s trousers. Adam bit the inside of his mouth hard, willing himself to return from the heady dream where Kris’s mouth had sent him.

“Please, Adam. If I am truly cursed by this perversion, let me forget what awaits me, if only that I may meet my end with open arms.”

Adam recoiled as if slapped. Kris was beyond reason, and now Adam was glad for his hesitation. If he allowed Kris to continue, he would have been giving him a permission to march toward death, thinking himself deserving of divine retribution.

“No, Kristopher.” Adam said gently. “Not if you would judge my love a perversion. Not if you intend not to return.”

“Your love...”

“When you return, and you shall return, you will tell me if you feel the same when the threat of death and hell is not so imminent. I care too much for you to be your death wish, Kristopher.”

“I didn’t mean to imply-“ Kris started, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts. “Forgive my careless speech, Adam, I...” But Adam would not let him continue.

“Nothing intended, nothing to forgive.” Adam repeated, closing his arms around Kris again. “Yet if you would lie with me I would not have it be because you are sure of your damnation. It should be an act of love, not fear. Return to me, Kristopher Allen, and if you still desire it I will give you everything you have ever longed for.” Kris opened his mouth to protest, but Adam hushed him again. “You said enough for me to know this is not the time.” Adam said, tilting his chin up and kissing him, unable to deny himself one last indulgence. “Though for all my life I wish it were.”

“What if it is all we have?” Kris objected one last time, squeezing Adam tightly.

“Then you shall be able to say we spent it without regret. You will have that in your favour, at the very least.” Adam said, holding him close until the sun broke over the horizon, dawning red and orange above the trees.


	3. The Course of  True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driven apart by war, Kristopher and Adam communicate through letters get to know each others' partners. However, events conspire against them to make even their vast distance seem like a mere stroll through the countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Bamberrific and AlmostKind27

    Kristopher pinned on his Chaplain’s medal, taking a moment to run his fingers along the raised golden letters “In This Sign, Conquer” set around the Cross.  It seemed to Kris a misrepresentation of the mission at hand, which was to deter Napoleon’s_Grande Armée_from invading England. Neil and Kris had spend the trip from Northgate to London in pleasant enough conversation, Neil making sure that Kristopher was up-to-date on the military and political situation.  Finding out the plight of the Nation at large made Kristopher’s recent troubles seem a pleasant dream; he had not realized how idyllic and closed his life had been, living entirely in the English countryside.

    Unbeknownst to Kris, the recent peace with France had been on the verge of breaking for the past year or so. William Pitt, the young Prime Minister, had been engaged in various diplomatic activities with the goal of forming a continental alliance to withstand the slow expansion of France’s borders.  Along with his efforts abroad, Pitt had pushed an expansion of Britain’s armed forces through the houses. Such expansion had led to the approval and purchase of Neil’s commission.  Their mission, as far as Neil could tell, was to secure the Spanish port town of Bares, North-east of the garrison at Ferrol.  British Intelligence suggested that Boney’s plan centred on Naval deployments from the Spanish coast, leaving the British Navy powerless to intercept.  In addition, if the Royal Army could gain control of on-shore ballistics, they could harry French ships as they entered the English Channel.

    It was an entirely new manner of thinking for Kristopher, who had spent his adolescent years in quiet study, prayer, and reflection. Were it not for his country upbringing, he might never had ridden a horse nor fired a musket.  He felt woefully unprepared for his new life and each new mile south put him ever more off his ease.  It shocked him that his impossible situation at Heathwick now seemed infinitely preferable to the one in which he now found himself. 

    Kris stepped back from the mirror in order to see the entire effect of his uniform.  His scarlet coat was trimmed with the blue-green cuffs and collar of the 28th Regiment of Foot, slashed across the chest with white trim.  His hair, unlike Neil’s, had been left to fall as it might. Neil’s long hair had been bound tightly into a queue at the nape, wrapped round with leather cord and waxed.  Kris was thankful that, as a clergyman, he was spared that particular regulation. It looked uncomfortable, though Neil did not complain.  The coat fit snugly over a coarse Holland-linen shirt and cut away to reveal smart white wool breeches, the silver buttons trimming the opening in front rather more overtly than the civilian clothes to which he was accustomed. He was loathe to trade his high brown boots for the simple soldier’s shoe, but Neil explained that on long marches, high boots would chafe and constrict.  Kris felt bare in his tight breeches, grey stockings and black gaiters, but there was nothing to be done for it. A uniform was a uniform, whatever his reservations.

    He placed his hat, a black wool fore-and-aft, atop his head and blinked at the change it wrought. He looked a new man entirely.  Kris idly wished that Adam could see him in his uniform, closing his eyes and picturing how Adam would circle him slowly, running his eyes up and down in appreciation for the fine cut of the jacket, how it emphasized the width of Kristopher’s shoulders and his slender waist. He let his mind wander, visualizing how Adam would pull close behind him, brushing a finger just over the high, starched collar before planting a kiss just under his ear. Kris could almost feel him, hard against his back as his arm would curl around Kris’s hip, sliding his long fingers towards the buttons on the front of his breeches.

“Enjoying your uniform, Allen?” 

    Kris’s eyes flew open – he hadn’t heard Neil enter their shared room at the King’s Arms.  Neil had stayed after lunch for a pint with a few of his company while Kris had gone up early to get dressed before evening muster.  Neil’s eyebrows were raised, and he was looking pointedly at the slight bulge in the front of Kris’s breeches.

“Praying, more like.” Kris offered, knowing it was a silly excuse for his state but unable to form a better one in the instant.

“Exciting.” Neil quipped, waving his hand. “No matter. We’ll be as real brothers now, you and I.  Neither of us shall be able to take a piss without the other knowing, so we best both get used to the intimacy.”

    Neil swept his Captain’s shako off the bureau and set it on his head, the wax unable to completely smooth his curls, particularly at the front. He tugged hard on his hat to cover the worst of it.  All-in-all, he looked very well turned out.  He straightened his crossbelts, sighting regrettably as he reached his shoulder.  “I should have very much liked an epaulette. Perhaps after a few successful campaigns I shall write to Adam about it. Unless you’d be so good as to mention it in one of your no-doubt hundreds of future missives.”  Neil had moved close alongside Kris and eyed him in the mirror. Kris gulped at Neil’s insinuation.

“I am not sure I take your meaning, Lambert.” Kris stammered, deciding to play the fool rather than admit anything of his own volition.

“You’ve written to him at every opportunity thus far. Did you not think I would recognise the destination address as my own?” Neil asked incredulously, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He looked like an east Indian tiger ready to pounce on a particularly juicy meal.

“I thought you were enough of a gentleman not to read over my shoulder.” Kristopher said after a moment, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally speaking. He was more than a little chagrined at Neil’s lack of discretion and altogether unsure of how to proceed.

“We are gentleman no longer, but soldiers. It’s as I said before, the intimacies of every day life are no longer private. I know them, and others shall. Consider this a friendly awakening to that kind of life.  From what I hear, you’ve been having plenty of friendly awakenings.”

“What?” Kristopher said, panicking now.  He eyed the door and fought the momentary urge to flee blindly out of the room.  How did Neil know, and how much?  Had Adam confided in him or, worse yet. was his lust for Adam so obvious that Neil could discern it for himself?

“When I returned home, my wife said she was troubled in her sleep by music.” Neil began carefully, clearly wary of Kris’s emotional state. “The both of you assured her it was nothing, yet when she retired for the evening, she heard it again. Frightened, she knocked at both your chamber doors in turn and came to realize you must be out of bed. Not wanting to lose face with her new staff, she decided to investigate on her own.  Interesting, but not entirely unexpected, what she saw. A fortunate thing for you that I was able to keep her otherwise occupied on our mutual last night at home, that you might have your farewells unobserved.”

    Kris swallowed hard, turning his head away from the mirror so as not to look into Neil’s piercing hazel eyes.

“It is not anything lewd, Lambert.” _Not as lewd as I desired it._ Kristopher silently added, feeling ashamed at the hot stab of regret that it hadn’t been.

“As you say.” Neil agreed, feigning disinterest. “It is not as though I would hold you in less esteem should you have such designs on my brother. You would hardly be the first acquaintance I brought to Heathwick to fall under Adam’s spell, and you will likely not be the last. To think I actually felt guilty at accidentally stealing your bride away – now I think I did the both of you a great favour.”

    Kris rounded on him, unable to take neither the gently mocking tone of his voice nor the ghost of a laugh threatening to become corporal at any moment.

“That is a grave offense to me, Sir, and were I not a man of God I should have to ask for satisfaction.” Kris snarled, calling on all his willpower to refrain from letting his fists fly against Neil’s smug face.

“Were I my brother, I would give it to you, as clearly he has neglected you in that regard. Why, I wonder?” Neil asked, cocking his head saucily.

    Kristopher recoiled as though a tub of cold water had been tossed over him. Adam had indeed rejected him, though Neil had made reference to others.  Since Adam had been in London for many years, Neil must be referring to days long past, but the sting of Adam’s gentle refusal was still too fresh for Kris to stave off irrational jealousy. 

"Adam often spoke of your great wit, but he failed to mention your cruelty.” Kris said sadly. “Clearly, Katherine was happy to have found such a match in you, and her happiness made me glad for her.   Yet seeing you thus...If this is how you truly behave, then I fear her happiness will be short lived. It is fortunate, then, that you will live most of your life away from home. She can be spared your barbed tongue at least."

    Neil walked to the window and leaned against the sash, forehead resting against his arm.  After a long silence had passed, he turned to Kris again, face ashen.

“You must forgive me.” Neil said, true regret written across his face.  “My brother is forever telling me to curb my tongue, lest I offend when I mean to merely provoke disclosure. I am not a direct man, Allen, and perhaps I should endeavour to be more forthright. If there is information I lack, I should ask you plain rather than hope to tease it out of you. It is a silly game, perhaps, but one that has brought me success in the parlours of London.  Certainly, my tongue played a part in the winning of my wife’s affections.” Neil stopped himself, looking horrified at Kris’s stricken expression. “Not as such! I did not intend to imply-“

“Go on, I take your meaning.” Kris said, waving his hand and banishing the lewd entandre from his mind.

“What I mean to say is that you are not that sort of man, Kristopher Allen, and I had no right to come at you from the side as I did.  Will you forgive my impudent mouth and allow me to cut to the heart of the matter?”

Kris nodded, folding his arms tightly. There could be no harm in letting him continue, not when he had already offended so much.

“I care for my brother deeply, and I cannot tell you how glad it made me to see the change in him since his acquaintance with you. I had made inquiries as to his well-being in London, and what I heard troubled me greatly. I had been trying to think of a way to lure him home when he arrived of his own volition. As glad as I was to see him, I am sure I don’t need to tell you that his emotional state when he arrived at Heathwick was not optimal. “

“He was as heartbroken. As was I.” Kris admitted, not caring about the pride it cost to do so.  Neil winced, his features pressed as though in pain.

“You were meant to find each other, I think.  Adam had looked content before I left on my business excursion, and to hear from Katherine that he was happy when with you made me so glad. Katherine said that on the evening she investigated the source of the music she saw Adam kiss your hand and heard you sing together – a love song. You say nothing romantic has passed between you, and I of course take you at your word.  Yet you must forgive me for hoping...” Neil paused, looking at Kris as if to gauge his reaction

“I said nothing lewd had passed between us.” Kris said, blushing as though to match his coat. “We do have an understanding...perhaps not an understanding,” Kris hurried to correct himself when Neil’s brows raised like flags, “but we have discussed such matters.  Though you must understand, my disappointment over Katherine was genuine. I have not...that is to say I would have been as much a man with her as you are. I have not eschewed the company of woman because I did not desire it, to the contrary. I desired her.  I simply-“

Neil cut him off, laughing.

“You needn’t explain it to me. Adam and I shared enough awkward conversations on the matter – and every time I brought school mates home for the holidays at least one of them would make similar protestations after. Suffice to say, you are attracted to him and he is aware of it, but for reasons I will let you keep to yourself, you have not given in to your baser natures as of yet. Is that it?”

“Yes.” Kris said, feeling as though he would surely faint from embarrassment. “Though I want to make it clear that my feelings for Katherine were genuine. I would not have made her unhappy, nor would I have looked elsewhere for company.”

“I would not have thought so.” Neil said reassuringly. “And forgive my earlier jest; it was plain to anyone with eyes that you cared for her. I wish I had seen it earlier, but I was blinded by my own happiness.  In fact, when His Grace suggested you accompany me as Chaplain, I agreed with him because I felt guilty for bringing you to Heathwick, that you should ever see your heart’s desire being waved in your face like a banner.  Now I wish I had held my tongue.”

    Kris stomach turned  – Neil Lambert had once again spoken with the Bishop of Lincoln on his behalf, and once again Kris’s life had turned unexpectedly. It was as if Neil had been sent by the Devil himself to try Kristopher’s faith. Then again, perhaps he had been sent by God to set Kristopher on the right path to fulfilment. One could never be entirely sure, but Kristopher was of a naturally optimistic bent. Still, the likelihood that he would be back at Heathwick even now, enjoying Adam’s company was sour wine to swallow when he missed him so much. It had been seventeen days, seventeen of Devil-take-how-many, and Kris already felt as though he was a hair’s breadth from bolting north at first opportunity.

“It’s nothing-“ Kristopher started but Neil cut him off.

“I should say it’s something! You should have refused, Bishop be hanged.” He interjected, but let Kris continue.

“I mean to say that I took vows to live a life of service.  Though I care for Adam greatly, I cannot put my feelings ahead of venturing where I am most needed.”

“You are a bigger man than I, Kristopher Allen.” Neil conceded, clasping him on the shoulder.

“For Katherine’s sake, I hope not.” Kris quipped, unable to keep a knavish grin off his face.  Neil laughed boisterously and Kristopher felt that perhaps he and Neil had come to some sort of understanding of their own.  They hastily gathered their remaining belongings and made ready to leave, but before Kristopher could open the door Neil stopped him.

“One more moment, Allen, if you would.”

“Want to work in a few more quips before we’re amidst the men?”

“No, I am deadly serious, for once.” Neil said, swallowing hard. “I know you said ... how you feel for Adam is not necessarily-“

“Men are not my exclusive proclivity.” Kris finally phrased, that they might stop stepping around the subject.

“Yes.” Neil nodded, grateful. “However, I caution you against disclosing your changeable nature to anyone else... and in exploring it.  Brotherly feelings for Adam aside, of course. I am speaking to you as a friend. You are technically part of His Majesty’s army now, and such deviation, as it is termed, is not tolerated.”

“I am well aware.” Kristopher said, thinking back to poor Mark Thompson, hanged for sodomy and cast out to sea. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

“Use discretion in your correspondence. It will be checked after we are with the Regiment.” Neil cautioned.

“ I had not thought of that.” Kris said, instantly horrified at the contents of his last letter. Had he waited to send it...

“Perhaps in your letters to Adam you could include another letter for him to pass on to your sweet heart. Obviously, for modesty’s sake, you won’t name her. I am sure he would oblige you, and being your closest friend, would know its intended recipient.” Neil suggested with a wink, and opened the door, leaving Kris to ponder his meaning for a moment before he followed, grinning as he imagined his next correspondence.

***

_...Not a day goes by that I do not think of you. Bother the days, not an hour. I think of you and I think of the music we made together; such a sweet sound we created when in harmony. Would it be like that, Adam?  I shall return and you shall show me, I pray.  I pray for it. Is it sacrilege? I care not; I pray for it and my prayers shall either speed me to you or hasten my damnation. Be that as it may, I remain ever-_

_Your devoted servant,_

_Kristopher N. Allen_

    Adam sighed and reclined back into the wing chair in the parlour, folding the letter and tucking it in his breast pocket.  It was the third letter in as many weeks from Kristopher, who was proving a most ardent suitor.  Three weeks – this letter must have been sent from London, or nearby – and Kristopher would be well on his way to Portsmouth by now.

    Adam did not pretend to know how the army operated – he had never been interested in matters military or political, but now he wished he had endeavoured to learn something of their current situation that he might at least comprehend Kristopher’s situation.  He had learned from Neil that their Regiment would likely drill for a few weeks prior to embarking on the two-week run to Spain – fair wind and action permitting. While Kristopher wouldn’t receive anything but the most rudimentary combat training, he would be expected to mess with the men, march should a horse not be available, and be able to understand maps and correspondence to assist in communicating with their commanding officer, Major Lord Edrington.  It was strange for Adam to think that in a few short weeks, Neil would be in command of a thousand soldiers, one battalion that comprised a third of the 28th Regiment of Foot.

        Neil had promised Adam to keep Kristopher safe in exchange for Adam treating Katherine well, which Adam thought was preposterous. Of course he would treat her well. Neil seemed to take similar indignation that Adam assumed Neil would let any preventable harm befall Kristopher, so the brothers made an unspoken agreement to end both their pretension of offence and their brief cohabitation fondly. Adam had grown used to him again, and was surprised at how much he had missed their banter.  Neil was a sportsman with prose as his weapon, and could have been a match for the quickest wit in London had he wished it. Instead, he had entered the service as a private just before the most recent peace treaty with France. He spent a few months training and on duty in a prison, but was soon released back to the countryside.  Adam remembered how relieved he had been when he heard Neil was returning to Heathwick. Relieved that he was alright, and relieved that someone could manage the family affairs that had an interest in doing so.

"He's written to you again, hasn't he?" Katherine said, entering the parlour for morning tea, as had become their custom after Neil and Kristopher left for muster.

"How can you tell?" Adam asked, laughing gently.

"You have that swoony look on your face - I used to get it myself when he would write to me. He can be dreadfully romantic." Katherine took the wing chair adjacent to him, closing her eyes lightly.

"How are you this morning?" Adam asked, eyes full of concern. "Shall I send for the doctor again? He's only just gone, I bet if I ride I could reach him in a day."

"No, no. I'll be quite alright, thank you. I can't have you send for the doctor every time I feel a bit faint, can I?" Katy sighed, placing her hand low on her stomach. "Mother will come when the time for my confinement draws close, and until then I have you."Adam grinned at his sister-in-law, who patted his hand weakly. "What did Kristopher say in his letter?"

"Neil is well, they arrived in London without incident. They stayed a few days for Kristopher to procure a uniform. He says thinks it suits him though it feels more a costume than a uniform as of yet." Adam said, pulling out the letter for reference. "He is eager to see the ship-

"He wanted to join the Navy, you know..." Katy interjected. "I'll never see why he chose the clergy instead. I was quite surprised - when he was a lad, sailing was all he spoke of. Perhaps his father couldn't get him a posting. He should have asked my father for an introduction, he would have made a fine officer."

    Adam pressed his lips together, knowing that Kristopher would have told Katherine about Mark Thompson had he wanted her to know.  "-though he said he would rather return here than ever see a ship. He sends his best to you." Adam finished up his summary, tucking the letter back in his pocket.

"I strongly suspect you're leaving out all the best parts." Katy laughed, watching Adam colour ever so slightly.

"He wishes we could sing together again." Adam offered.

"You did sound lovely." Katy admitted. "I was so sure it was spirits, the music was so haunting. You should practice on your own."

"Only if you accompany me on violin." Adam said, knowing full well that he was as likely to practice piano as Katy was the violin. "I fear both instruments will grow lonely without Neil and Kristopher."

"Nevertheless, it would pass the time." Katy said, taking a sip of her tea to see if it had sufficiently cooled.

"We do seem to have an over abundance of it at present." Adam agreed, though he knew it would not be long at all before construction began on the Church. The parsonage was of secondary importance - should Kristopher return before the parsonage was complete, there was plenty of room at Heathwick for him.

"Adam - when you first arrived I must admit I resented your presence, as I know you resented mine-no, do not try and apologise, we both know it to be true. These past few weeks, however, I've come to see why Neil values you so. I'm sorry now, for worrying about your intentions toward Kristopher.  I shouldn't have said anything to Neil, it was none of my business." Katy had confessed as much to Adam weeks ago, but clearly it still plagued her conscience. Katy had never met anyone with Adam's proclivities before; her only exposure had came though whispered rumor and biblical rhetoric. When she had seen Adam kiss Kristopher's hand, she had positively panicked. She told Adam how she had prayed for Kris, how she had almost written to the Bishop but thought the better of it and spoke with Neil first.  Neil informed her of the Bishop's intentions for Kristopher, and she had been relieved to hear that he would be leaving Heathwick.

    She had apologised then for her interference, and in turn Adam had told her a little of his life.  He had even pointed out examples of male love in literature, explaining how he longed for the same things she had before she was married - someone to love him, to be his partner, and who complimented his strengths and weaknesses. When she asked him about his intentions towards Kristopher, he had been wary – but her concern for her friend wore away at his secrecy. 

"Do you think Kristopher could feel that way for you? As he did for me?"  She had asked shyly, turning her head to hide her blush.

"Not yet, Katherine, but I hope someday he might. Should we…should Kristopher come to love me I fear that he would stand to lose a good deal more than I would. I suspect there are aspects of his life he would want to change and it is not a decision I would wish to push him in lightly.  He has-” Adam had pressed his lips together, unsure of how much he should say about the particulars of his discussion with Kris on their last evening together, “ - made his intentions towards me _most_ clear.  Perhaps I have you to thank for his… impatience.”

    Katherine had been unable to refrain from giggling, and from that point forward the two had been fast friends.  Adam turned to her now, trying to find a way to assure her that he understood why she had spoken with Neil regarding Kristopher.

“Katy, dear, I wish you would stop apologising. You only did what you thought was best.”

“But do you think Neil will tell anyone? I would be dashed if my foolishness caused him any trouble.”

“Neil has no interest in defaming Kristopher’s character.” Adam assured her. “He has vouched for the man twice now. At any rate, Neil has always loved me as I am, in spite of my tastes in romantic partners. I am sure he’ll make Kris aware that he knows – I am sure I don’t have to tell you that Neil loves to demonstrate his knowledge and can be very persuasive in the pursuit of more.”

“I find it endearing, and he is rather perceptive.” Katy said, and Adam smiled at her innate reaction to take her husband’s part.

“Quite.” Adam agreed. “I would that he were as prudent as he is perceptive, but you can count on him to keep any knowledge about what you witnessed a closely guarded secret.  In fact, it might even be a blessing that Neil knows. Not that there is much to know…”

“Come now, Adam. You don’t strike me as shy in your affections. You’re too much a gentleman to admit it, but I am sure you gave him more than a kiss on the hand.” Katy teased.

“Mrs. Lambert!” Adam said, feigning indignation. “A woman in your delicate condition is in no position to accuse me of lewd acts.  Actually, I’ve been meaning to confront you.  It’s scarcely been a month since your wedding, and already the doctor is sure you’re with child.  I am not a medical man, but even I can work those mathematics.”

“Your brother is persuasive in all his pursuits, not just knowledge.” Katy said, eyes flashing with the delight of sharing a secret.

“Why, Katherine Lambert,” Adam said, eyebrow arched saucily. “We make a fine pair of merry sinners.”

“When our boys come home, we’ll have quite a household of them.” Katy agreed, setting her teacup demurely on the tray.

“Oh, she didn’t mean it, little one. I am sure you’ll be a perfect angel.” Adam said, addressing her stomach.

“With you as an uncle? Hardly.” She swatted Adam amiably on the arm, as he stood close to help her rise. “Shall we write to them?”

“What more can we do? Knit them stockings, I suppose, but mum neglected to teach me that particular art.” Adam said, taking her arm.  Their letters wouldn’t reach Neil and Kris till they arrived in Portsmouth, and Adam knew that such letters would likely be searched. He would have to be far more discretionary than Kris had been – and hopefully Kris would be able to discern his meaning.

 

***

 

_Mr. Allen,_

_Thank you for your last missive. I of course remember the last song we sang together and look forward to future duets. You have a fine singing voice, one that I would like to hear as often as time permits when you return. I should like to try a new arrangement where I descant over your melody, beginning pianissimo et larghetto. We'd progress then, poco a poco, to a brisk andante. A pity we didn't get to finish the song last time. I should very much like to reach the last verse, where the tempo is positively prestissimo and sung with full voice. You might not be familiar with that particular verse, but I am certain, should you be willing, that I could teach it to you with little effort. You possess quite the gift for music, if your last exhibition was anything to judge by, and it would delight me to aid you in your study._

_I am hoping you are well, and that your find your duties pleasant. I am aware that once you reach Spain, correspondence will be less regular - but I do so enjoy our little communiqués. They are a bright spot in my otherwise droll country life. What I wouldn't give for a taste of your adventure!_

_My best to Neil. If you would be so kind, remind him of our bargain? Circumstances are such that he shall owe me double.  He'll know of what I speak. _

_I remain_

_Yrs,_

_Adam. M Lambert_

_August 6th, 1805_

    Kristopher tucked the letter into his Bible, frowning slightly and rubbing at the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Bad news from home?" Neil asked, entering the tent he was afforded as senior officer of the battalion. He had been most kind to extend an invitation to share it with Kristopher. In other circumstances he would have slept in the open air along with the men.  Kris was grateful, but he suspected Neil's Lieutenant was rather chagrined.

"Not as such. Adam sends his best to you and asks me to tell you that in regards to your bargain with him your debt is doubled, whatever that means."

“I am to be a father, it seems.” Neil said rather calmly, regarding Kris carefully. “Katherine’s letter indicated that come the New Year, we shall be a family in truth.”

“That’s wonderful news, Neil. Congratulations, really. You must share the word with your men, I am sure they would wish to congratulate you.” Kris was indeed happy for Neil, though he was distracted by the distance in Adam’s letter. It was not a letter from a lover, or even a close friend.  He suggested that he help Kristopher study music, which was almost ridiculous in that Kristopher was, by far, the more skilled musician. Adam loved music, to be sure, but his theory and piano abilities were basic at best. Perhaps Adam alluded to music because it was the bond they shared, Kris hoped, but could not shake the disappointment.

"You look upset." Neil said, hesitating before speaking. “I hoped that it would not be uncomfortable for you to think of Katherine and I starting a family, though I admit I hesitated before telling you. I thought, given the circumstances, perhaps you had transferred your affection and might share in my happiness.”

"Forgive me, Neil. I am thrilled for you – you couldn’t be more correct in your assessment. Though I will always be fond of Mrs. Lambert I no longer pine for her as I once did.” Kris bit his tongue.  The more he thought about it the more he did realize that he was a trifle upset by this turn of events. Neil was going to have the family he always pictured for himself – the family it seemed he might never have.  He beat down this uncharitable feeling, focusing instead on Adam.  Whenever he felt himself remembering Katy, he did his best to think of Adam – the diversionary tactic was quite often successful.  “The nature of my mood is more to do with your brother’s letter. My last to him was quite forthright, and his reply is... the nature of his message to me was rather impersonal. I understand the need for discretion now that we are encamped and will soon depart, but I had hoped that he might give me some indication of his feelings." Kris sighed loudly, at once desperate to be alone with his thoughts.  "I think I'll take a walk before marching drills."




“Might I have a look?” Neil said, tilting his head. “He spoke very fondly of you, Allen. I know my brother well enough to know when he’s pining for someone.  Katy’s letters say that he spends most of the day alternately attempting to play sad love songs on the piano and asking her questions about your childhood.  By all accounts, he’s besotted with you. “

“Be my guest.” Kris said after a moment’s hesitation, waving his hand towards the Bible. “There’s certainly nothing I would be loathe for you to read.  Just a great deal about music.”

    Neil arched his eyebrow and started into the letter. A few lines in and he flushed a bit, rapidly reading the rest before closing the letter and handing it back to Kris.

“He isn’t speaking of music, Allen. Come to think of it, I’m not sure it’s your Adventure he wants a taste of at that. You should read it again. About that walk...perhaps I should take it for you?” Neil tugged his hat and tilted his head, as if he were turning over command of the tent and passed through the entrance flap, leaving Kris alone with the letter.

    Kris re-read the letter, feeling a hot rush of excitement as he unwound the metaphor. He had been so eager for something overt that he had missed the thinly-veiled bit of dirty talking. He gulped down air, seriously considering taking advantage of his privacy – after two weeks encamped in the fields outside of Portsmouth doing drills, Kris knew such opportunities were a rarity. They were boarding HMS Greyfly tomorrow for their journey to Spain, part of a 6-ship convoy that would deploy ground troops at various ports of note and then return to defensive positions. This would be his last night in England, and as such, Kris had more pressing matters to attend to than the satisfaction of his own desire.

    He pulled his stationery and quill set out of his bag, setting out to write Adam a letter. He did not know how reliable the post would be once they were at sea, much less when they landed and the fighting began.

 

***

 

_Dear Mr. Lambert,_

_Thank you for your last letter. I find myself at a loss for words as we sail tomorrow for Spain. This might be my last correspondence for some time, so I will say that I wish you health and happiness until we meet again. Your friendship has been the most welcome of surprises, and I find myself at wont for your company each day.  I would eagerly welcome any further musical instruction, as I gladly concede your mastery of that particular instrument.  I am certain under your tutelage I can reach the height of my potential. _

_Please convey my well wishes to Mrs. Lambert and my congratulations as well. I look forward to meeting your new niece or nephew upon my return._

_I do beg a favour of you. Neil suggested that you might be discreet enough to forward a letter on for me? Its contents are of a romantic nature, so I dare not send it via the post – but perhaps if you see the lad~~y~~ in question you could pass it on.  I am sure you know of whom I speak.  _

_I know you are not a praying man, but should you find yourself a spare moment, I bid you think of me._

_Yr servant,_

_Rv. Kristopher Allen_

_Cpln, HRM Army 18th Rgt of Foot_

_August 31st, 1805_

 

 

    Adam regarded the second envelope cautiously, as though it contained some treacherous news. Was it supposed to be for Katy? Surely Neil wouldn't have encouraged that behaviour, but Kris had never spoken of another sweetheart.  The way he had spoken, it had only ever been Katherine... Adam read the letter again, noticing that there was a blot of ink over the “y” in the word “lady.” Poor penmanship, he supposed.  Kris hardly had the luxury of a writing desk at his disposal. He looked at the second envelope again. It was labelled simply

Madam.

_Madam who_?  Adam wondered, feeling absurdly jealous.  Again, a tiny blot of ink had fallen just between the “M” and the “a” of the word “Madam.” This inkblot was smaller. It almost resembled an apostrophe.

M’adam.

My Adam.

Lad. Not Lady.

    Adam let out an audible whoop of happiness and rushed into his drawing room to read the second letter. Kristopher might be a man of God, but he was proving to be quite the inventive little sneak when matters were pressing.

  


_M’adam,_

_Forgive my riddles, dearest. You understand, of course. I have no doubt this letter will be read, and I hope it colours your cheeks as much as it does the reader when I tell you how much I long for you.  I long to take you into my bed the way a man would take his wife. That is how we shall be, when I return, inseparable and spoken of in one breath. I am incomplete without you; each mile I travel south I leave more of myself behind.  I fear by the time we reach Spain only an ounce of Kristopher Allen shall remain. _

_How is this, when I’ve known you only a few months? How is it that you have intoxicated me so completely that I would forsake everything for another taste of your lips? I thought I knew the love of God, I thought I knew the love of woman, but it is only your love that defines the word now. I think of you daily, nay, hourly. My first thought upon waking and my last as sleep takes me is of you, your hands, your body.  It is a sin, I know, but so happily will I burn for it. _

_Forgive my poor prose – I fear this is the last I shall be able to say so freely for quite some time.  Until I can write again, please know that I am glad of your reluctance before I left. Had matters progressed I doubt I could have been removed from your bed; it would have taken my entire regiment to pry me loose. Yet, I would do my duty to my country and make the younger Mr. Lambert a man of his word by way of his recommendation. Thusly I am glad you exhibited restraint._

_I sail tomorrow, and may God carry me safely south to Spain and back again. Think of me tonight, when you close your eyes and start your own southward journey._

_Ardently,_

_Kristopher_

     Ardently. That was an understatement if ever Adam had read one. Adam could only assume that being around crass soldiers was doing nothing for his manners. He tried to imagine Kristopher, clad in lobster-red, listening to tales of conquest and growing frustrated that he did not have any to share. Though, as a chaplain, he could hardly be expected to join in the bawdy talk.  The vision of Kris in his uniform was clear and arresting, the tight white breeches straining against Kristopher’s well-formed thighs and arse. He remembered how good it had been to slide his hand lower and lower on Kristopher’s back as their mouths had united. Adam pictured being beside him, able to reach inside his great coat and pull Kris close, to feel the length of him pressed hard inside that white uniform. He read the letter again, stretching out on his bed and pouring over each word as though it was a promise of future delight.  Adam had never been one to deny himself the pleasure of self abuse, so he undid the closure of his trousers and pulled himself free of his smallclothes. His prick was already primed for the task at hand, thanks to Kristopher’s  vivid and desperate letter. Adam sighed as he palmed himself, softly at first, circling his hand around the exposed head like a gypsy would caress a crystal ball. Indeed, Kristopher’s letter had woven a spell over him, and he thought that he could almost see the future.  He gripped himself tightly then, thinking about how eager Kris would be when they were reunited. _He would touch me thus, and kiss me just so, beneath my jaw._ Adam let his imagination roam as wildly as his right hand, picturing how he would slowly accustom Kris to pleasure, how he’d be careful and gentle and make Kristopher plead with him for _just a little more, Adam._

    Adam gasped as he worked himself over, unable now to keep his fevered desire at bay. _I’d have him against a wall and oh, he would whine a little in his throat as I worked him open. I can taste him, I can taste..._Adam arched his back off the bed, alive with the idea of taking Kristopher, of pressing inside him till at last they were one flesh. He stroked his cock one more time, reaching hard across the months of their separation to pull the feeling of reunion close. He could feel it, burning inside him like the parsonage fire that had brought them under the same roof, just below his skin. _Kristopher, so good, so good inside you. _

    Adam hissed Kristopher’s name just as his crisis came, hot and wet against his stomach. His eyes flew open at the sensation, so lost in imagination that his visions seemed almost real. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to call forth the images again, but they were lost. Eyes still shut, he reached for the letter and kissed it, wishing for all the world its writer were close at hand.

***

    Kris closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sway of The Greyfly as she made her way southward. It had been difficult, learning to sleep in a hammock with Neil only a few feet away. He doubted Neil had shared as many nights with his wife in such proximity, but at sea, it was the way things were done.

    The weeks at sea had been hard on Kristopher, and he thanked God that events had conspired against making him a sailor.  He had made the acquaintance of several of the Lieutenants, and though they were pleasant enough, he couldn’t imagine life shut up in a cupboard, two to a room.  He could not believe the size of the accommodations below decks – the Lieutenants’ rooms were a mere 3 feet wide by 6 feet long, stacked neatly against the ship without a square inch going to waste. Inside the rooms were two bunks, the bottom bunk just a few inches off the deck. Two men could barely stand on the remaining floor space, but the men tended to bunk with officers on opposing watches, affording a few hours privacy.

    Not so for the Midshipmen, ratings, and ordinary seamen, who slung their hammocks in the large open below-decks. Most of Neil’s men messed and slept in the aft cargo hold, but Neil and Kris were given the infirmary. It was a tiny room and smelled rather off – the floors were stained here and there and the air was generally stuffy. But it was quiet, and when Neil was off with his own Lieutenants, Kris could close his eyes and ease himself of his loneliness without fear of interruption. He found that picturing Adam was the only thing that could temporarily allay the general feel of death and sickness that clung about him in the room. Men had died here. Men had lost limbs here. Being on a working Naval vessel was something of an unpleasant awakening for Kristopher. Until now, being a part of His Majesty’s Army had felt like a boy’s own adventure. Drills, camping, spending time with the soldiers and hearing their stories – the past two months had actually been rather pleasant, as long as he kept his mind from wandering back to Heathwick.  It was a difficult challenge, especially considering that he had only too recently reawakened his interest in the male sex, and now he was surrounded by men entirely.

“You don’t pray anymore.” Neil’s voice interrupted Kris’s thoughts.  “In Portsmouth I used to fall asleep listening to you mumble at God. What good is a Chaplain that doesn’t even pray?” He was irritable. Neil was still troubled with seasickness, and as they had fairly smooth seas it was a source of great embarrassment for him.

    Kris gulped when he realized it was true. More and more his thoughts were with Adam whenever they had a moment to wander.

“I pray. I’ve just learned to do so silently so as not to disturb you.” He lied, hoping Neil would ignore the obvious falsehood.

“You are a man obsessed, Kristopher Allen, and if you allow yourself to become so distracted it will be the death of you.”

“Tell me you do not think of home, of your wife. Especially now that she is with child.”

“There is a difference. I do not let it interfere with my duties nor do I dwell unnecessarily. Ashore you were well-rounded enough, but now that we’re aboard and away from the fleet you are a mere shadow of yourself. You walk as if in dream, neither awake nor asleep and should this condition continue once we are engaged in Spain, I fear for my ability to honour the promise to my brother. I gave him my word as a gentleman, and as his brother, to keep you safe, but if you’re going to moon about like a foolish woman there is hardly aught I can do for you.” Neil turned a sharp eye towards him, running a hand through his curled hair. Kris was struck by the small similarities between his face and Adam’s. From a distance they didn’t look a trifle alike, but up close there was a more than passing resemblance.

    Kris hastily swung his legs over the side of his hammock, slipping out of the canvas bedding and onto the floor.

“Alright, Allen?” Neil asked, confrontation still thick in his voice. He was spoiling for a row, and Kris was determined to avoid an argument.

“I fancy a stroll.” Kristopher said by way of explanation, eager to be away. Neil had touched a nerve – perhaps intentionally. The more he found himself thinking of Adam the less connected he felt to his religious convictions. It was almost as if he thought God would disapprove, so he avoided confessing his feelings. For a man used to “telling” God everything, such affected modesty was a difficult burden.  However, whenever he read a biblical passage condemning acts between men, he would involuntarily close his mind to it; a habit he found himself most uncomfortable with. It was easier to dwell on Adam than come to any decisions on his faith.

“Eager to find some quiet corner?” Neil snapped, “Be sure and avoid the for’rard sail locker, I hear it’s quite the hotbed of activity.  Then again, perhaps it would do you well. Get it out of your system.”

“I am not sure what ails you, Lambert, but I assure you it is not of my making.”Kris hastily pulled out of his boots, wondering if fits of pique were a Lambert family trait. He took the few short steps to the door, fully intending to leave the miserable man to his own devices, but stopped short. Adam had asked him to watch out for Neil, to be friends with him even though he could be difficult at times. “He’ll lash out if he thinks he’s cornered.” Adam had warned. “But it’s those times he needs someone the most.”  What was he here for, if not to provide a willing ear and consolation?

“Are you ... that is to say, is something troubling you, Neil?” Kristopher asked, slowly turning and leaning against the infirmary door.

“It’s nothing. Nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle by now.”

“Is it a matter you wish to discuss? It is not like you to be so confrontational and I want to make sure you are well. It’s just as you said. We make land soon, and I do not wish you to be distracted. You are our commander, sir, and it is imperative for all of us that you be at your best.”

    Neil scowled deeply, attempting to sit upright in his hammock. He ended up slipping down further, however, and Kris couldn’t help but grin at the comical turn of events. He offered Neil a hand, helping him right himself and hop out of the hammock.

“Walk with me?” Kris offered, gesturing towards the door.

“No. If we are to speak freely, best do it behind closed doors. What I have to say concerns Adam, in point of fact.”

“How could Adam have possibly upset you this far from home?”

“Adam’s exploits follow me everywhere. They followed me to school, they followed me when I first joined the army, and even now that I am an officer they follow me. You are proof enough of that.”  Neil said, exasperation in his voice.

“I am sorry, I don’t follow you. I fail to see how my praying, or not praying, could affect your mood this much-“

“Allen, you know that’s got fuck-all to do with it. Damn it. One of my lieutenants is from London, and his brother runs with that pack of opium-crazed heathens Adam befriended. Upon hearing my last name, he enquired if we were related. Now half the regiment is making sly jokes when they think I cannot hear. Coupled with my wretched seasickness, this hardly makes for an illustrious beginning of my captaincy.” Neil paces the floor, hands behind his back in Naval fashion.

Kris frowned. While it was certainly uncommon in polite society for men with Adam’s preferences to live as openly as he evidently chose to in London, he wasn’t aware that it was something that would be ridiculed as openly as it evidently was.

“What are they saying?” Kris asked, voice soft. He thought of Adam, the feel of Adam’s lips on his mouth and how much he longed for it again, and the idea that such activity could be mocked made him at once ashamed and livid.

“Oh, what aren’t they saying. Insinuating it runs in the family, that I ought to have joined the Navy instead in order to better take part in the long-standing Naval tradition of buggery, joking about how I chose you to bunk with instead of Lieutenant Greene because you’re...”

“I’m what?”

“Smaller. More pleasing to the eye. I don’t bloody well know, whatever it is men see in each other. You ought to know better than I.” Neil’s voice was rising in anger, and Kris flapped his hands a bit in effort to quiet him down.

“They think that you...that you and I?” Kris couldn’t  help but laugh, and he covered his mouth to muffle the sound. “Well that’s a little absurd, considering.”

“No need to get nasty. Am I not a perfectly charming bloke?” Neil said, rolling his eyes. “I know I don’t have my brother’s flashing blue eyes or whatever it is you’ve been visualizing while tossing off, but I’d like to think-“

“Good heavens, man. I meant that you married my sweetheart and I’m more than a trifle besotted with your next of kin.” Kris said, interrupting before Neil could say something even more embarrassing. “Though, for the record, I understand why Katherine chose you.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but laughed so that Neil would know he was taking the mickey. Neil burst into uproarious laughter, leaning on the examination table with one hand.

“Heavens, Allen, you are good for one’s mood.” He said, breathing laboriously. “For what it’s worth, I see now why Adam chose you, and why my wife was so reluctant to leave you behind. Not so much for your looks, as I am a poor judge of male beauty, but you are a good soul. A good friend, and I thank you for it.” Neil inclined his head slightly and offered his hand. Kris gave his in return and Neil clasped it with his other.

“I shall sermonise on the virtues of respect and obedience for tomorrow’s service.” Kristopher offered. “And perhaps publically ask God for His blessing on your growing family and protection for your wife, a dear old friend of mine, as she enters her time of confinement. That ought to put any rumours to bed. No pun intended.” Kris said, making Neil erupt into laughter again. 

***

    Summer burned away the green leaves of the forests surrounding Heathwick, leaving the trees red-tipped and turning more crimson by the day. Adam surveyed the beauty of the countryside daily, finding that he did not miss city life as much as he had anticipated. There was peace to be found in the quiet, and solace his heart needed after Bradley, and in truth, after the loss of his parents. He had been too raw to come to terms with his grief at the time, and too numb in London. Now, at last, he could put the events in perspective.

    He urged his bay mare on towards the church, where the foundation stones were being laid. Mr. Brown had insisted on utilizing the most modern of construction methods and re-framing the church from the foundation up. The original stones had taken too much heat, he had insisted, and would not maintain structural integrity. Adam had agreed, of course, dismissing the cost.

“I’ll double your fee if you can double your efficiency.” He had wagered, to which Mr. Brown had raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“I’ve never seen a man so eager to worship.”

“I have a lot of sins to atone for.” Adam had quipped, laughing alongside the portly man.

    The Bishop had written, thanking him for undertaking the construction and sending a stipend. It fell far short of the cost, but Adam knew it was what his parents would have wanted. His mother and father had not been very devout, but they had believed in the sense of community the little church provided. As the owners of the land surrounding North Gate, they took care to make sure the population was well-cared for and happy. A place to celebrate weddings and baptisms, and to turn to in times of trouble and times of loss – this was a necessary part of life. Adam believed connection to your fellow man more than he believed in a higher power, truth be told. In response to the Bishop’s letter, Adam had written him back bidding that their priest return from Spain as soon as the church was ready as it was his feeling that the small folk in North Gate had taken to their young pastor. The Bishop replied that he would do all he could, but given the conditions of the war, some delay was to be expected and he would hate to deprive soldiers on the front of their moral support.

“I’ll show him moral support.” Adam had later grumbled to Katy, who was about halfway through her pregnancy and was starting to swell about the middle. Adam had sent for a tailor, who altered her clothing accordingly and fashioned some gowns to wear when she grew even larger.

    He barely remembered his mother being pregnant with Neil, so Adam had no knowledge of how matters were supposed to run, but he supposed Katy knew about such things and she rarely made complaint. For her part, she read a good many books, occasionally practised at the violin, and worked on needlepoint. She despised needlepoint, and many times Adam would catch here cursing ever so quietly as she worked the needle in and out of whatever bib or blanket she was decorating. The little cracks in her ladylike facade were endearing, and he began to see how Kristopher had been so charmed by her.  He found himself looking forward to meals and was glad that Neil had chosen so well for himself. She was becoming a sister to him in spirit as well as in law, and he was glad that he was not so alone.  He had grown used to Heathwick being full once more, and if Katy had not been there to bear it with him, the wait for Kristopher’s return would have been gruelling.

    There were times Adam wondered if he were not pinning too much hope on Kristopher Allen. After all, he had now been gone just as long as he had been at Heathwick.  There was also something that worried Adam in the sudden onset of their mutual attraction. Was it merely a convenient distraction for them both? Kris’s letters seemed less desperate, less afraid of both the military campaign and his feelings for Adam. Certainly that was a good thing, but Adam worried he would come to change his mind – that war would change it. In his darkest hours, he worried that some other man would catch Kris’s eye, or that a camp follower would entice him between her legs.  They did not have an understanding, nor did Adam feel he had any right to expect fidelity, but his heart wanted what it wanted.

    Adam dismounted and handed the reins to the groom, who took them without a word and began to brush down the horse, sweaty in the hot August dusk.  Adam began the walk back up to the house when he heard a scream. He broke into a run, breathing hard as he raced up the hill towards the source of the noise. His eyes strained into the setting sun as a small, white figure rounded the corner of the manor and towards him.  It was Katy, running towards him with equal speed, screaming his name.

“I’m coming. Stay. Stay!” Adam called, fearing she would over-exert herself in the heat. She did not listen and instead sped even faster towards him, her legs moving faster and faster as her momentum carried her down the hill.

“STOP.” Adam cried, but it was too late. Katy’s feet came out from under her and she toppled, rolling hard down the hill till she came to a rest at Adam’s feet, unconscious. Adam scooped her up in his arms, barely pausing.

“Ride for the doctor!” He shouted at the first servant he saw, not even bothering to register which one it was.

“Bring your mistress water!” He called to another, rushing upstairs into her sleeping room and placing her gingerly on the mattress. Adam took her hand.

“Come on, Katy-lass. You’ll be alright.” He said, unsure if she could hear. Worried about the baby, he instinctively placed his other hand on her stomach, but he had no idea how it should feel, much less if the baby would even be moving as of yet.  Beneath his hand, he felt the crunch of paper. Feeling awkward but desperate to know what had sent her into such a fright, he put his hand inside the concealed pocket on the side of the skirt she wore and withdrew a letter.

He could tell by the handwriting that it was not from Neil, but it bore the seal of the Royal Army.

Trembling, Adam opened the letter.

 

_To Mrs. Neil Lambert,_

_It is my great regret to inform you that your husband’s unit suffered heavy losses in an engagement  shortly after coming ashore in Spain.  Our intelligence in the area implies that while a majority of the soldiers did not survive this engagement, a handful were taken prisoner by Spanish or French enemy combatants.  At the time of this letter, your husband’s body is not amongst the identified, but please do not leave much to hope.  In the event he has been taken prisoner, it is customary for the Spanish to make a request for trade of captives.  We shall, of course, alert you should this occur._

_In the mean time, courage and prayer, madam. If he has given his life, ‘tis for a noble cause.  Enclosed please find his salary, paid current to the end of the month...._

 

      Adam’s fingers clenched involuntarily, crumpling the hated letter. He forced himself to release it lest he tear the words or make the ink run with the terrified tears that had begun to fall. Adam smoothed Katy’s hair and kissed her forehead, feeling her stir slightly.

    Adam called on every ounce of strength he had in him and strode to the window to watch for the doctor. His entire body trembled. Not Neil. So much had been taken from him, not his little brother as well. Surely God could not be so cruel, if indeed God watched over these lands.

    His panic only increased when he realised that the letter made no mention of Kristopher, and why would it?  The Army knew nothing of Katherine’s childhood friendship with Kristopher, nor of his own connexion. Adam would receive no letter assuring him of Kristopher’s fate. No one would think to tell Adam if his love was alive or dead. He was not Kristopher’s next of kin; he was neither husband nor wife. No. Adam was simply a secret that Kris held closely.

    Adam touched his lips, regretting that he had ever let Kris leave his sight. He should have taken him into his arms, no, his bed that very evening and kept him close. Instead he had sent him off towards his death or capture with little more than a kiss for comfort.   Guilt lay heavy on his soul as he turned to watch Katherine, breathing slow and steady but still unconscious. How he envied her then, envied her position in society as well as he freedom to react as she might.  For while it was proper for a woman to grieve her missing husband, Adam could not very well mourn the loss of his friend as much as he felt he needed to.  He envied her sleep, now, that she might spend awhile immune from the oppressive weight the news would place on them both.

    Adam upbraided himself for giving up on hope so soon – surely there must be a way to discover Kristopher’s fate. He would write to the Allens’ as soon as he might; once he was sure Katherine and her baby were well.  He would...he would go to Spain himself if he had to.  Feeling more resolute, Adam wiped his face and prepared himself for the doctor’s arrival, for it was not his place to weep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Cast Off The Bonds That Hold You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam returns to London to see if he can't find some clue as to Neil and Kristopher's whereabouts. Meanwhile, stuck in Spanish Prison, Kristopher and Neil try and keep their spirits up along with their fellow captives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta team, almostkind27 and bamberrific, and I went to the Kradison concert, so sorry for the interruption. To pay you all back, this chapter is 17,866 words. My apologies to C.S. Forrester for borrowing a few of his characters. If you know Hornblower, you'll smile. If you don't, do not fret. Anything relevant is contained herein.
> 
> also! LOOOK! KateKat1010 made us a lovely cover!
> 
> Because of the delay, I didn't wait for a full beta on this. Any errors in the last 7k are all my fault. Well any of the errors are my fault, but you know what I mean.

 

 

 

KRISTOPHER winced as the blister on the back of his heel burst open. The back of his shoe continued to rub against the raw flesh, making every step an agony. He knew better than to try and break the cadence, however. They were not called a Regiment of Foot for nothing; and their target was still thirty miles off.  They’d walk another five before making camp, and only then could Kristopher rinse out his wound and bandage it. Until then, the constant friction on the open sore would serve nicely to keep him awake and alert. They had taken La Broca in an easy route and left half the battalion behind as per Major Edrington’s orders. Neil left his senior Lieutenant in command and headed north to rendezvous with the balance of the 28th to attack the main garrison some miles inland. They would be joined by an artillery division as well as a cavalry unit to supplement the attack.

 




 “By this time, they know we’re coming – if the sounds of battle from our victory were not a forewarning enough.” Neil trotted his mare alongside Kris, keeping a weather eye on the forest surrounding them.  Under Neil’s guidance, they had taken a small fort on the northern coast easily enough.  The battle had done Neil a world of good.  Combined with Kris’s recent sermons on the virtues of respect, the victory instilled a sense of pride in Neil and with it came the confidence of his men.

 

 For his part, the taking of the fort at La Broca left Kristopher feeling a bit hollow.  He did not know many men in the battalion, but he recognised a few men who looked worse for the wear.  Worse yet, he had to preside over his first mass funeral,  saying prayers in both English and Spanish.  He didn’t know why he bothered to pray in Spanish at all – none of the living men at the service spoke it, but for some reason he was compelled to send the fallen soldiers on the other side to their Maker in their native tongue.  If their souls could hear, perhaps they would appreciate the gesture.  It was a horrible thing, how young the faces of their opponents looked in death.  Without their weapons, without their orders and without their desperation to kill or be killed, they were men no longer but mere boys in the costume of soldiers.  

 

“Do you think it will make a difference this time?” Kris asked, trying not to let his discomfort show. Could he have been a seaman, cutting down his enemies with a rapier while boarding? Could he have mourned the loss of his friends by simply tossing men overboard with naught but a prayer to remember them by? It seemed easier than a soldier’s lot now, though just a week ago he had been sure there was nothing worse than a life at sea. Kristopher was thankful now that his life had taken him along a different path – war did not suit him.

 

Neil eyed him warily, instantly assessing his mood. Neil was perceptive and Kris unschooled in concealing his emotions, so Kristopher often found himself confiding more than he would like. It saved Neil the trouble of working it out of him, for he was nothing if not persistent

 

“Battle troubles you.” He said accusingly, as if it were something to be ashamed of.

 

“As it should any man. I would like to think we fight out of necessity, not to satisfy our vainglory.”

 

“It troubles you more than most.” Neil waved his arm to indicate the rest of his men, who were chatting amiably as they marched, seeming to have forgotten the men they left behind.  Kris supposed he was right, and wondered why it was. He didn’t think himself soft nor consider himself a coward.  “Perhaps it is because you are not in the thick of battle. You alone have to deal with the aftermath of the fight without participating in the charge.”

 

“You might have something there.” Kristopher admitted, glad to know Neil did not think him a coward. “Though I doubt I’d leave the clergy for a chance at the experience.  I shall leave the soldiering in your capable hands.”

 

Neil turned to reply to him, and Kris would never forget the laugh in his eye  turn to horror.  The world around him melted and time seemed to slow as he turned to look over his shoulder to see a Spanish soldier taking aim at him. His vision blurred even as he felt a crushing weight against his shoulders and he crumpled beneath it.  Neil had vaulted off his horse and was now riding Kris’s back down to the ground.

 

“Curious...” He thought in the instant before his head dashed against a rock.  Kris could no longer finish the thought, so instead he concentrated on the feel of the rock beneath his face. Cool, and hard at first, but gradually became warm and wet – was it raining? He could hear something like thunder.  Was it evening? The light had already begun to fade, and Kris let his consciousness slip away into the storm around him.

***

 ADAM hesitated just outside the door while the Doctor examined Katherine. She had regained consciousness just before he had arrived, though she was clearly confused and altogether out of sorts. Adam had forced her to remain laying down, explaining that she had taken a tumble and that he Doctor would be along presently. She didn’t say anything about Neil, so Adam kept his mouth shut and the letter in his waistcoat pocket lest she discover it again.  He put his hand over it, closing his eyes momentarily. It occurred to him now that it would be a trifle awkward for him to write to the Allen’s, as he was a complete stranger to them.  When Katy was feeling up to it, he would have to beg her to write on his behalf.

 

The door opened, interrupting his musing, and Dr. Perkins stepped out, careful to close the door behind him.

 

“How is she?” Adam asked, running a hand through his dishevelled copper hair. His sleeves were pushed up and he knew he must look a fright to receive company, but such trivial concerns were secondary in his mind.

 

 “Mrs. Lambert will be all right. She’s in a state of shock. Women by nature are delicate, and in her condition it is not surprising that she fainted.”

 

“She fell before she lost consciousness, I was there!” Adam protested. “Are you certain she didn’t hit her head?”

 

 “Quite.  She remembers everything – her letter, running out to find you, and losing her footing. She has a few bruises and minor abrasions from tumbling down the hill but those are easily tended to.”

 “What about the baby?” Adam asked, worried now for the health of the child. It would devastate Katherine to lose the child – and in the event of Neil’s death, propriety dictated that Katherine return to her family unless she produced a male heir.   Adam dismissed the thought; he had promised Neil to take care of Katherine and he would – especially if it was his last request.  No matter the fate of the child, Katherine would always have a home at Heathwick should she want one.  He would marry her himself should it be necessary.

 

 “The child is fine. Had this incident occurred earlier in the gestation she would have miscarried, but I believe she is far enough along that there will be little in the way of ill-effects. Of course, it is impossible to assure such things. One simply has to wait and see.  The baby was moving, which is a good sign.”

 

 “Moving?” Adam said, remembering at once how as a child his mother had pressed his hand to her swollen stomach so he could feel Neil kick, kick, kicking.  “My little soldier!” She had exclaimed. “Already marching!”  Adam’s eyes filled with tears, thinking of his brother and wondering if he was still marching, somewhere, and if Kris was with him.

 

 “Yes, but I will let Mrs. Lambert tell you the good news. She asked for you.” Dr. Perkins said, tipping his hat.  Adam let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.  Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to take any drastic actions to see to the well being of Mrs. Lambert.  Dr. Perkins turned to leave, but paused and pivoted to face Adam again, leaning close. “See to it that she spends the balance of the week off her feet and that she is put under minimal emotional strain – as little as possible given the sad circumstances. Mrs. Lambert did not go in to detail – is her husband dead?”

 

“Missing.” Adam said, feeling his stomach churn at the thought.

 

“And your friend, the pastor I saw to after the church fire?  As I understand it, he accompanied Neil to Spain as chaplain. Have you heard of his fate?” Adam furrowed his brows and ground his teeth to keep from over-reacting.  It was critical that he not appear over-concerned. While he knew that the citizens of North Gate likely speculated on his tendencies, he did not want the country rumour mongers tarnishing Kris’s good name – or memory, whatever the case may be.

 

“We have not heard of his whereabouts, but I ask you to pray for him, and for my brother.  I would be much obliged if you passed news of his disappearance amongst your acquaintances. Perhaps next week , Mrs. Lambert will be well enough to receive visitors and might feel more at home if her neighbours were to drop by.”

 

“Of course.” Dr. Perkins nodded graciously. “Perhaps I can pay her a visit next week? I could have my wife accompany me.  She only recently gave birth to our fourth son, and it might be nice for Mrs. Lambert to have some female companionship.”

 

“That sounds like just the thing.” Adam said, clasping the physician’s hand. “Do see my steward on the way out about your fee.”

 

Dr. Perkins nodded and made his way towards the grand stair. Adam would have seen him to the door, but he was eager to check on Katherine.  He knocked politely on her door, which seemed absurd seeing as he had been in the room while she was unconscious, yet he did not want to take liberties while she was in a delicate state.

 

“Is that you, Adam?” Katy’s voice sounded small, and Adam poked his head inside the door.  She was pale, leaning against the headboard of her bed.  “Come in.” She continued, patting her bedside.  Adam walked to her bedside and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.  However, his awkward feelings melted away when Katy turned towards him, eyes wide.  “The doctor told me you found the letter. What are we going to do?” She asked, voice a-tremble.

 

 “I ...” Adam began, trying very hard to be the voice of reason, the rational man his father had raised him to be. “I’ve been thinking on it, and I don’t have a good course of action. I confess, I am at a loss.”

 

 “If you’d like, I would write to Kristopher’s parents for you, to see if they have heard either way.” Katy said gently, laying her hand on his. Adam covered her hand with his other, wondering at how small hers was in comparison.

 

 “Please.” He whispered. “I can’t stand not knowing if there is cause to hope.”

 

 “There is always cause to hope.” She said. “If Neil has not been found, perhaps they were together when their unit was attacked.  Perhaps they are together still."

 

 “Neil promised me he would keep Kristopher safe and he has even been a man of his word. In turn, I was to take care of you. Fine job I’ve done of it.”  Adam said bitterly, ignoring the hot tears that fell unbidden from his eyes.  

 

“None of that, now.” Katy leaned against his shoulder and Adam laid his head atop hers. They sat in silence a long while, Adam allowing the veneer of his public face to shatter. If there was one person on earth that understood, it was his sister-in-law.  She was the only person with whom he might be frank, and it was a great comfort to him to share his grief with someone who was grieving equally. They broke together.

 

"Isn't there anything you could do? Do you have any connections in London that might avail us?"

 

"A friend of my father's is a retired Major, I suppose I could write to him and see if he could look into the matter. If they have been taken prisoner, they will be held for ransom. Neil is not well connected enough to warrant that payment, but it is possible he could be traded for Spanish prisoners if we could find someone to act as an intermediary. But Katy, we don't know yet where he is being held, if he's being held. I would have to go to London myself and stay there to make sure funds are dispersed immediately, or we might miss our opportunity."

 

"Why aren't you packing already?" She asked, pushing him on the shoulder. "You could stop in Biggleswade and deliver my letter to Mr. &amp; Mrs. Allen yourself - I am sure they would tell you in my stead."

 

"Katherine." Adam said, biting his lip. "I gave my word to take care of you. You can't travel; Neil wouldn't have it if he were here. I mustn’t leave you on your own, especially not if...another letter should arrive."

 

"Nonsense. As soon as you get to Biggleswade, you could send my mother and sisters to stay with me. I'd be on my own for less than a week, and I'm hardly alone here at any rate."

 

"But Katherine, I gave my word-"

 

"Were it not for your unfortunate circumstance in London, I would have been on my own. It is nothing less than what I expected. Besides, I think if you remain I shall get unduly upset. You remind me so much of my missing husband I find your presence intolerable."

 

"Beg pardon?" Adam said, pulling back sharply.

 

"It would kill me to keep you while your heart is elsewhere. And in truth, I would never forgive myself if Neil was out there and you could do something to help him but chose not to because of me.  I shall be more than fine, Adam, I -oh!" Katy sat upright, her hands flying to her stomach.

 

"Are you - is the baby?" Adam said, fighting a wave of panic. "Shall I ride for the doctor."

 

"No, Adam." Katy said, laughing in spite of her sadness. She took his hand and placed it low on her stomach. Adam flushed, attempting to pull his hand away but all of a sudden he felt it, sure and strong.  Kick, kick, kick in perfect rhythm.

 

"Marching, just like his daddy." Adam said, kissing Katherine on the top of her head.

 

"We can hope." Katy said, rubbing her stomach affectionately. "Will you go for me, brother dear?"

 

"I shall leave without delay." Adam promised, hoping he was making the correct decision.

 

***

 

THERE WAS music. A lone violin, tremolo. The sound hovered near the top of the register of the instrument before starting a slow descent. It wasn't a song, it was a scale. C minor, to be precise. Kristopher didn't know why, but it made him sad, as if remembering someone or something from long ago. The scale ended, and the fiddler took up a tune. He tried to move his mouth, but it did not cooperate, so Kristopher sang along in his mind.

 

_"And fare thee well, my little turtle dove_

_And fare the well for awhile_

_But though I go - I'll surely come again_

_If I go ten thousand mile my dear_

_If I go ten thousand mile"_

 

It was one of the songs he and Adam had sung together, and he could hear the descant in his imagination, soaring above him and calling him to fulfill the promise inherent in the lyric.

 

"Is he still asleep?" Someone asked, but the words were all wrong, more sing-song than speech, and it took Kristopher a moment to realize that he was hearing Spanish.

 

"Soy...Soy un Padre." He forced himself to speak, tongue inordinately heavy in his mouth.

 

"Yo se. Tu hermano esta aqui, en la obliete."

 

An oubliette? Why was Daniel here, in Spain, and why was he in an oubliette? Kristopher blinked his eyes and tried to focus. His conversation partner was most certainly a Dago.  His swarthy skin and dark hair would have marked him as a Spaniard even if Kris had not heard him speak.

 

"Por que?" Kris asked, desperate to understand.

 

"Because he tried to escape captivity before you reached us. Tried and failed.  A blessing he did, for if he had escaped with you, you would most certainly have died. "A different voice reverberated in the room, this one in perfect, if accented, English.”Allow me to introduce myself. I am Don Masserredo, and you are under my care in the prison at El Ferrol."

 

"Encantado." Kris responded. "I am Kristopher Allen, Chaplain to the 28th of Foot under the command of Major Lord Samuel Edrington."

 

"We know who you are and who you served. A man of God is welcome here, even though you do not pay obeisance to our Holy Father in Rome, you serve the Lord above all." Don Masseredo said, stroking his greying beard thoughtfully. "You have manners, Padre. As for your brother, as he insists he is, he is lucky I do not cut out his tongue. It is a wonder two such different men crawled from the same womb." Neil. Masseredo could only be speaking of Neil, of course. Kristopher's mind was growing sharper by the moment, as if emerging from underwater.

 

"He is my brother by marriage."  Kristopher explained, figuring it was close enough to the truth. Katy was nearly a sister, and Adam...the thought of Adam pained him - how close he had come to death without ever seeing Adam again. He had promised to return, and had very nearly broken that promise. "Please, sir. Let me see him. He shan't go running off again, I promise. I will speak with him."

 

"Oh, Padre, he won't be running any time soon. His leg was broken in his recapture. Reset, of course, before his punishment."

 

Kristopher was horrified. Even if his leg had been reset, he had been sitting in a hole in the ground, without room enough to lie down. There were likely rats, and roaches, and if it had rained Neil would be soaked in his own filth.  With a broken limb and no rum to ease his pain, every move would be excruciating.

 

"Por favor...please, in God's name. I give you my word that we will not try and escape."

 

"Parole, very good." Don Massaredo nodded. "I shall bring him here to the infirmary. You are feeling well again, I take it? Javier says your fever broke yesterday."

 

"I...I believe I am well. Well enough to eat." Kristopher nodded, feeling very hungry.

 

"You English lads, your stomachs are never far from your minds. I will put you in a normal cell, with a few more English officers. Navy. We do not have many of your red coats here, but I think you will like your fellow captives.  A Lieutenant Hornblower and one of his midshipmen, Mister Kennedy. Captain Lambert will be here within the hour. You are free to visit him as you wish, so long as you are back in your cell by dinner. Unless, of course, you would be so kind as to say grace at my own table. Mr. Hornblower dines with us often.”

 

Kris looked at him quizzically, but Masserredo did not act as if this was anything out of the ordinary. Kristopher had no idea of protocol while in a foreign prison, so he merely nodded and thanked his captor.  He would have to ask Neil about the niceties of their situation later. He was escorted down the hall by two guards, one in front and one behind as if, unarmed, a priest still presented a threat.  The hallway grew more dingy as they got further from the Infirmary, and presumably, the Don’s quarters.  If there had been any doubt in Kris’s mind that they were in a prison, it left him now.  The hallway opened to a courtyard below, and Kristopher eyed a scraggly-looking bunch of men, sailors by their dress and commoners by their lot.  They were eating fruit and playing some invented game involving stones.

 

 

Kris watched the men as he walked the length of the hallway. Their commanding officer appeared on the scene, tall and regal looking, with dark curly hair and a slightly overlarge nose. He cut quite the picture of a naval officer, his blue uniform pristine over his white pants.  Perhaps it was the way the men reacted to him, but there was something reminiscent of Adam in his manner. Not so much in looks, though their stature was similar, but in bearing. The men around him smartened up considerably, and he had their attention from the moment he entered the courtyard. Presumably, this was the Lieutenant Hornblower of which Don Masseredo had spoken. There was something about his eyes too, that Kris noticed when the Lieutenant raised them to see who was walking around the courtyard that struck him as familiar. They were incredibly perceptive, as though searching for any bit of information that could help him figure a way out of this place.

 

Their eyes met and Kris nodded. The lieutenant tugged on his hat in response before turning his attention back to his men. He had them doing group exercise before Kris even reached the end of the hallway – a remarkable officer indeed. Kris smiled to himself. At least he and Neil would be in good company.  The hallway regained its fourth wall at staircase, leading down into a block of cells. Some looked little better than animal stalls – indeed, some appeared to have been used as such. Thankfully, Kristopher was locked into to a small room at the end of the hall – a proper cell with room for four men. A double-high set of bunks looked like it had been recently used, so Kristopher took the one at the opposite end of the room.

 

“Hullo.”

 

The unexpected voice was decidedly English and warm as a meat-pie. Kris turned to see a small figure curled against the wall, a novel in his hand. He rose, and Kris was pleased to note that they were about the same height – he had begun to feel rather small amidst the other military men.  His cellmate was a Midshipman, though he looked no younger than the Lieutenant outside. In all else, they looked about as different as Kris did from Adam. This Midshipman Kennedy, as Kristopher assumed he must be, had bright blue eyes that seemed to look perpetually amused. Where Kristopher had noted that Hornblower’s nose appeared long, this man’s was positively cherubic, giving him an impish sort of appearance.  His hair seemed to have gotten lost on its way between red and gold, and settled just above brown. It was windblown in front, with the waves pulled back into a loose queue.

 

“I’m Midshipman Archie Kennedy of His Majesty’s Frigate Indefatigable.” The man said, offering a congenial hand. “You must be our newest. I was speaking with Javier, the infirmary nurse, and he told me you were coming ‘round.  I was glad to hear it, man. Even gladder to see it with my own eyes.”

 

“Chaplain Kristopher Allen, 28th of Foot.” Kris introduced, taking his hand and clasping it firmly. “Good to be among friends. Though I must say, the Dagos here are more cordial than I had expected. Not that I expected to be taken prisoner.”

 

“A Chaplain, how exotic!” Mr. Kennedy was obviously delighted. “We’ve had naught but Romish masses for months now. I bet the lads will be happy to hear familiar prayers in their native tongue, assuming Don Masseredo permits it. Horatio will convince him – you haven’t met Horatio” the man said when Kris looked at him dubiously. “He could convince anyone of anything, and Masseredo is rather pleased with him at present.”

 

“Pleased with him?” Repeated Kristopher. “Whatever for?”

 

“About a month ago, there was a storm. We were excited, you see, on account of the battle that was taking place right before our eyes. Our old ship, the Indy, she had a Spanish Lady on the run, and afore the dame could come about on a larboard tack to clear the rocks, why, she was run aground.”

 

Kris closed his eyes momentarily and tried to work through the thick fog of Naval vernacular. The Midshipman was clearly a tale-teller;  Kristopher could hear the thrill of battle and the fury of the storm in his voice.

 

“The storm was so fierce that the Don feared to send a boat of his own men out to help the survivors of the wreck. So, after swearing not to try and escape, Horatio took our company out on a fishing boat and saved them all, to a man.”

 

“I’ll wager the Don was happy to see his countrymen safe and sound.” Kris said, admiration in his voice.

 

“He didn’t know anyone had lived. We drifted for a day, you see, pulled out by the current. Wouldn’t you know it, we were picked up  by the Indy.”

 

I’m afraid I don’t understand. You were picked up by your own ship… then why are you back in prison.”

 

“Well, Horatio had given his parole, hadn’t he? Captain Pellew said his word shouldn’t have to hold for all of us, but we all stood by Horatio. He had given his word for all his men, and that was as good, if not better, than if we had given it ourselves. So we returned here, after Horatio was given his commission. ”

 

Kristopher couldn’t help but notice the way his chest puffed out proudly.  In spite of his eagerness to have a chat, there was something drawn about his face, as though he had recently undergone some sickness or injury.  Kristopher suspected that telling this tale served to bring up his spirits and sense of self-worth. He also obviously admired Hornblower to the point of hero-worship.

 

“Your loyalty is commendable, sir.  If I had the chance to go home this instant, I would be hard pressed not to take it, parole or no.”

 

“Home is a subjective term, Mr. Allen.” Kennedy said, growing at once introspective.  “It’s been eight years since I was in England for longer than a few weeks. I was here, in El Ferrol, for two years, separated from the Indy and Horatio both before chance brought Horatio to the very same prison.  Without Horatio, El Ferrol was just a prison. Without Horatio, the Indefatigable is just a ship. Without Horatio, England’s just a big damn island.“  Kennedy looked hard at Kristopher, as if gauging his reaction.  “Sometimes you find someone and they are your lighthouse, they are your safest way. That’s him for me – for us. I hope you take my meaning, Sir.” Archie raised his eyebrow questioningly, as though curious to see what Kristopher would make of his declaration. Kris got the feeling that Kennedy had said rather more than he had intended to.

 

“I do.” Kristopher said, sighing heavily.  “All too well, I’m afraid.  To borrow your metaphor, Kennedy, I’m entirely in the dark here. All I can do it wait.”

 

“And pray.” Kennedy supplied. “Horatio isn’t a praying man, but I shall pray with you. That will help quite a bit, I wager. God’s fond of answering my prayers.” Kennedy said with a bit of a grin.

 

“That so?” Kris asked, quirking his mouth and tilting his head, duly impressed.  “At least that makes one of us.” It was not only Adam that Kris felt cut off from, Kris had never felt further from the grace of God. It began when Katy had chosen Neil, deepened when he admitted to himself how he felt about Adam, and had only grown worse in the intervening months.

 

“Give Him time. I know it seems it now, but El Ferrol is not so bad. We could have it a lot worse.”

 

“Masseredo had my commanding officer thrown into an oubliette with a broken leg. I’m having trouble seeing the good in this place.” Kris retorted, and at the mention of the oubliette Kennedy’s face turned cloudy.

 

“It’s a tough punishment to endure. Being down in that hole, with the rats and the silence. Only your own piss for warmth and your own rambling for company. How long was he there?”” Kennedy’s voice was soft and fearful, a broken thing. Kristopher didn’t like the sound of it.

 

“As long as I’ve been out. A week, I guess. He’s in the infirmary now.”

 

“Horatio was there a week, once. If your Captain is strong, he’ll be all right. Is he strong?”

 

“Well, with a broken leg –“ Kris started to excuse, but Kennedy interrupted.

 

“I mean, strong minded.” Kennedy clarified, waving his hand. “I was there for a month the last time I tried to escape, before Horatio came. It almost sent me mad. If Horatio hadn’t … if God hadn’t sent Horatio to me just then, I’d be dead, certain sure.”

 

“I think so.” Kristopher said, hoping that Neil was as mentally resilient as Kennedy’s commander was. 

 

“Go to him as often as Masseredo will allow. Read to him. He’ll forget the darkness then.” Kennedy said, his voice still eerily soft. “It helped me.” Kennedy returned to his spot on the floor and picked up his book, clearly intent on wiping away his bad memories.

 

“I shall.” Kristopher said, sitting on his bunk and waiting for Kennedy to respond. When he didn’t, Kris lay back on the bunk and closed his eyes lightly. The brief activity was enough to tire him out, and there was little to do until Neil got settled into the infirmary.  It was nearing evening at any rate, and he could use the additional sleep.

 

 

 

***

 

ADAM had ridden hard to Biggleswade, a week’s journey south and southeast towards London another day. He hadn’t bothered with the carriage, wanting to leave it for Katherine should she need to venture out.  Horseback was simply faster at any rate. Adam stopped each evening at an Inn, frequent as they were along the Great North Road. He felt like he could carry on without sleeping, but knew his horse needed the rest. For his part, he paced his room each night, wondering what he would say to Allens – how he would react should the news be grim. He liked to think that he would be able to keep his face indifferent to maintain Kristopher’s honour but feared that his countenance would prove most ungentlemanly to such an unfavourable turn of events.

 

He passed the evening of his arrival in Biggleswade with a cordial dinner at the O’Connell house, Botsfield Park.  They had been surprised to find him on their doorstep, and though not unfriendly, something in their manner caused Adam to wonder how much Neil had disclosed in order to assure them that Adam would have no heirs.  Simply hinting that he was unable to father children would have been a simpler solution, but Neil was nothing without his wink and sly smile.  They were surprised when he enquired as to where to find the Allen Residence, but Adam was ready with the excuse that Mrs. Lambert bade him check in on the family of her childhood friend.  By the time the meal was over, Mrs. O’Connell was packing for her journey north to take care of her daughter.

 

It was just past sundown when Adam rapped at the cottage door. The place was small but well kept, with a beautiful view of Botsfield Park.  The woman that greeted Adam at the door had one of the most pleasant faces Adam had ever seen. Her blonde hair framed a sweet face with sad blue eyes that regarded him balefully. She could only be Kristopher's mother - Adam had seen that same forlorn expression on Kris's face to often to not recognise it.

 

"Mrs. Allen?' he inquired, fighting the rising lump in his throat and fearing for the worst.

 

"Are you from the Army?" She said, and for the first time Adam noticed she was clutching a letter.

 

"Pardon? I...no, I'm not from the Army."

 

"Did the Bishop send you, then?" Mrs. Allen looked even worse, eyes filling with tears.

 

"No, Mrs. Allen. I'm Adam Lambert. Ah, that is, Neil Lambert's brother - he married Katherine O'Connell. I own Heathwick and you son was the pastor-"

 

"I know who you are, Mr. Lambert.  Mrs. O'Connell mentioned you when Katherine got engaged to Neil. He seemed a sweet lad." Mrs. Allen said, and for a moment Adam was afraid she'd turn him away, suspecting that she had been told of his proclivity. However, the look on her face was not disapproving. "Come in. How do you take your tea?" She said, stepping aside.

 

Their parlour was small, and Adam noticed the pianoforte in a place of pride by the window. There was a cheery fire burning in the hearth, and a man sat in a wing chair aside it, reading a journal.

 

"Mr. Allen, this is Mr. Lambert, of Heathwick. Katy O'Connell's new brother in law." Mrs. Allen introduced. "I suppose he's come about Kristopher."

 

"Ah, yes." Adam said, removing his hat and clutching it in front of him. He had never met Bradley's family; had never even heard them mentioned. It was a trifle awkward meeting Kristopher's parents, especially considering he had no idea if Kristopher was alive. "Mrs. Lambert received word last week that her husband, my brother, is missing in action. I was hoping - Katy ... Mrs. Lambert was hoping that you had news of Kristopher's whereabouts." Adam's voice was trembling as he stammered out the words he had so carefully practiced.

 

Mr. Allen looked him up and down as if taking measure of him. He turned to his wife expectantly, tilting his head before finally grabbing Adam’s hat himself and handing it to her.

 

"Where are your manners, Mrs. Allen? Take the man's coat and hat." He said. "Have a seat, son." Adam surrendered his coat to Mrs. Allen, who apologised.

 

"Forgive me, Mr. Lambert, we've been sick with worry. I'm not myself. Let me put the kettle on, we'll feel better after tea, won't we?" She fussed, escorting Adam to the chair adjacent Mr. Allen's.

"Kristopher spoke of you in his letters. Spoke of you quite often." Mr. Allen started, wiping his brow. "He said you were his closest friend at Heathwick." It was an innocent enough statement, but Adam could hear an unspoken accusation in his voice, the worry. Too late he remembered that the Allen’s knew about Kristopher’s rather changeable sexual preference. Adam started to fear that coming here had been a mistake, especially if Mrs. O’Connell had gossiped about the circumstances of Katherine’s betrothal. "I take it Kristopher disclosed to you why he entered the Clergy rather than joining the Navy as he wished."




 

Adam could feel himself flush, and hoped it was disguised in the firelight. All the same, he couldn't help but hope that this discussion meant that Kristopher was alive somewhere, for else why would Mr. Allen tarry so. Unless he merely wanted to see if Kristopher's soul had been tarnished before his death. The possibility made Adam's hands shake - how should he respond without implication?

 

"He mentioned you thought it rather dangerous an occupation, being a sailor." Adam said, narrowing his eyes.

 

"Come now, Mr. Lambert. A man of your reputation knows of what I speak. If we have heard of your preference, I am sure Kristopher had as well. Your brother was not exactly subtle in his insinuations to the O'Connell’s."

 

"What of it?" Adam said, trying his best to dodge the question. "The company I keep  does not reflect upon your son's well being, which is the reason for my visit."

 

"We aren't trying to accuse you of anything, dear." Mrs. Allen interjected, voice heavy with apology, and Adam looked at her gratefully. He had begun to feel as if he was on trial. "You must understand that what happened with Kristopher years ago was difficult for our family. We were so glad when he turned his attentions towards Katherine. If we seem unkind, you must forgive us our disappointment that the matter was not resolved to our satisfaction.  It is our only wish to see him well-loved."

 

"He is alive, then?" Adam said, all but daring to hope. Surely they could not be so cruel.

 

"We have hope that he is, yes." Mr. Allen said, and Adam couldn’t help but let out an audible breath. The heavy weight in his chest was lifted,  but now the pain of bearing it for so long could be felt, as though a plaster had been ripped from an old wound. Mrs. Allen handed him the letter she had been carrying. It was identical to the letter about Neil in form, with perhaps an added religious sentiment and a promise to keep Canterbury informed of Kristopher's situation should any news present itself. Adam noticed his hands were shaking, and Mrs. Allen steadied him when she reached to take the letter back.

 

"You must be so worried about your brother." Mrs. Allen patted his shoulder and Adam nodded, accepting the socially acceptable outlet she was giving him for his grief.

 

"It was considerate of you to ride all this way to check on your brother's wife's childhood friend." Mr. Allen said, putting Adam on his guard again.

 

"I was on my way to London, actually, and thought it prudent to send Mrs. O'Connell back to Heathwick to see to Mrs. Lambert. She has had quite a shock and shouldn't be alone."

 

"Of course, she would be nearing her confinement." Mrs. Allen supplied, wringing her hands slightly. “I’ll run and get the tea, it should be ready.” She said, leaving the tense atmosphere in a rush.

 

"I suppose you'll be visiting friends in London now that Kristopher is missing." Mr. Allen's words send a shiver down Adam's spine.  Their implication was clear enough.

 

"For your information." Adam said, rising from his chair. "I'm off to visit friends of my father's. They have some connections in the Admiralty and the Army, and should I need to finance any rescue attempt or to pay any ransom for your son's safe return I would rather be close at hand than spend two weeks in travel. If there is a chance Kristopher is alive, I intend to use all my resources to make sure he is brought home."  He paused. "Assuming, of course, that you'd accept my assistance." He paused again, considering the look on Mr. Allen's face. "If you like you can say my help was incidental, seeing as my brother is likely with him. That should save you the embarrassment of having social connections with a sodomite."

 

Mrs. Allen gasped loudly, nearly dropping the cup of tea she carried. As it was, she spilled a little of the hot liquid on her hand, giving a little cry of pain before setting the tea down on the mantle and rushing back into the kitchen to tend to her hand.

 

"Forgive my language." Adam mumbled, not at all sorry. Mr. Allen looked at one shocked and ashamed. "You should see to your wife and I should be on my way."

 

"No. Wait." Mr. Allen said, rising and taking a step closer to him. "I owe you an apology, sir. I had no reason to neither accuse you of any impropriety with my son nor insinuate anything about your character." He exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead again. He picked up the cup of tea and offered it to Adam. "Please let me explain, not that it excuses my behaviour."

 

Adam very much wanted to leave and put this embarrassing and insulting business behind him, but if Kristopher were here he would want Adam to get on with his family, Adam was sure of it. He had spoken of his parents fondly, and Adam did not wish to leave things on bad terms. If Mr. Allen was willing to explain the affront to Adam's honour, he should at least heat him out.

 

"I understand this is a difficult time." Adam offered, taking his seat again. "Perhaps I should not have come in person."

 

"No. No. It's good to have a look at you." Mr. Allen said. "You are taller than your brother, more finely featured than I would have imagined. But you are every bit the gentleman that Kristopher said you were. You must understand, his letters were filled with you. Our son has never been subtle." He said as his wife re-entered the room. Even before I caught him and Mark, God rest his soul, that day Kimberly and I knew. We could see it in the way he and his friend looked at each other. His affection was as clear on his face as if it were writ upon a page.  Were he not so transparent, I would have consented to his Naval ambitions, but I could not bear the thought of a captain seeing in him what I saw there and hanging him for the thought or the deed. I thought that in the priesthood, he would be reminded constantly of the Biblical teachings and being a good Christian lad, that God's disapproval would be some deterrent in the matter.” Mr. Allen paced in front of the fire, reminding Adam of a clock pendulum, marking the passage of time as he paused occasionally to gauge Adam’s reaction to his speech. For his part, Adam tried to listen impartially.

 

“We tried to do right by him, you see.” Mrs. Allen said after a moment of silence. Apparently Mr. Allen had been expecting Adam to react. “He’s our first born, and we would love for him to have children...a normal life. It’s not that we object on principal- oh come now, Neil – it’s that he was so young. It’s natural we’d be protective. What parent wouldn’t try and keep their child from a career where he could get ...”

 

“-Hanged.” Adam supplied, sensing her discomfort. “Believe it or not, I understand your actions in that regard. However, Mr. Allen’s apparent hostility towards my person leads me to question if you would welcome him home if I brought him.” Mrs. Allen placed a hand on Adam’s arm and squeezed.

 

“That’s not it at all, dear.  We just worry for him.”

 

“I am not sure you have considered the future, Mr. Lambert.” Mrs. Allen said, voice soft and apologetic where it once had been antagonistic. “Kristopher doesn’t have your fortune to fall back on should the Church throw him out. More likely is the eventuality that he will leave the service of his own volition – our son is not one comfortable with the double talk that would be a necessary part of living a dual life.  Should his be discredited in public, there is not much of a life for him outside of your continued good grace. “

 

“You think I mean to ruin him?” Adam said, horrified.

 

“Not that you meant to, of course not.” Mr. Allen put a hand up, stilling Adam from launching into a full confession of his feelings. “Though you may end up doing so, regardless of intention. Even if all goes well and the two of you...” Mr. Allen waved his hand as if unsure of the words necessary to describe his thoughts “... what is to become of him if something were to happen to you? Your estate will pass, in its entirety, to your brother’s family.”

 

Adam had to admit that he had not thought of the particulars of this arrangement. It was different in London, where youth had seemed to last forever and less emphasis was placed on what sort of career was socially suitable. It occurred to him that he was not acquainted with any elder men like himself, so he was not entirely sure what the standard work around was for a legal inheritance.  Most of his friends in London came from money themselves, and those who had not money of their own had learned to live on the excess of others. He thought of Brad for the first time in months without bitterness in his heart. Had Brad feared that Adam would grow tired of him soon, leave him with nothing? Is that why he had thrown in his lot with a wealthier man?  It was an interesting perspective, one he had never considered. What became of a wealthy man’s lover should they part company? There was no established social contract that provided for these situations.

 

“Right now, I am most concerned with getting Kristopher home.” Adam said meekly. “Though you have given me a lot to consider. I have no wish to force any difficult circumstances upon him but you must know that I ...” Adam closed his eyes momentarily, fighting down a blush. “I care for your son very deeply. Surely you must know that, or I would not be here. You wouldn’t be telling me all of this if you thought I was going to cast him aside without a thought.”

 

“We knew how he felt about you.” Mrs. Allen said calmly, refilling his teacup. “We hoped that the man who had helped Kristopher mend his heart would be of suitable quality. Forgive us if we offended, but Mr. Allen and I needed to be sure.” Mrs. Allen went to stand aside her husband, presenting a pretty picture of domesticity by the firelight. “We have had a long time to come to terms with what...with who Kristopher is. We had hoped – not to offend you – but we had hoped he would change with time and faith. Yet, it seems that God has an unusual path for him.”

 

“Just promise me you and Kristopher will carefully consider the future before you rush headlong into any arrangement you are unwilling to withstand.” Mr. Allen cautioned, every ounce the concerned father. “I’ll not see my son in some Brick Alley brothel-“

 

“Neil, that isn’t necessary.” Mrs. Allen snapped. Adam looked up at her, questioning her with a glance. She had not spoken so aggressively all evening, and to openly interrupt her husband in front of company was hardly a socially acceptable behaviour.  “Kristopher isn’t the first one in the family to exhibit such ... tendencies.” She continued after a nod from her husband. “It should be enough to say that he was not so fortunate in his friends as Kristopher seems to be.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Adam said, unsure of what to say.  “I promise that, should I even find your son, we will discuss the future. Though, if I might speak my intentions as plainly as I would were he a woman, my feelings are such that he will always have a place with me, should he desire it. “

 

“Then go find him.” Mr. Allen said. “Go with our blessing, and if heaven will allow, with God’s as well.”

 

***

 

“What do you make of them, Allen?” Neil said, leg carefully propped up on a long narrow bench against the courtyard wall.

 

“Hmm?” Kristopher hummed, rolling his head towards Neil. The sun above was hot, hotter than Kris had ever remembered it being in October in England. It felt more like August to him, and he held a dusty hand to his eyes to make out of whom Neil was speaking.

 

“His Majesty’s finest over there.” Neil said, indicating Archie and Horatio.  They were sitting in the shade, Kennedy leaning his head just against Horatio’s shoulder, napping. Horatio looked stiff and uncomfortable at the display of closeness, but every now and again his eyes would flick over Kennedy fondly.

 

“They appear to be very good friends. Tie-mates, I think the sailors call it.” Kristopher said, keeping his own suspicions silent. He had roomed with Kennedy and Hornblower for a little under a month now and had watched Kennedy enough to confirm his initial supposition that Kennedy harboured some romantic feelings for his senior officer.  Hornblower was tougher to read during the daylight hours, his whispered affections and only barely audible groans in the night were proof enough that the feelings were shared.  The first time he had realized what was going on in the bunk across the room, Kristopher had lay as still as he could, unsure of what to do. Clearly, they thought he was asleep.  He was mortified into silence, and even more mortified by his body’s reaction to the sounds.  He would hear Kennedy softly cry, “touch me,” or Hornblower sweetly reassure “that’s it, my lad, just so. Oh, Archie...” and Kris was instantly transported to the conservatory at Heathwick, where he and Adam would be able to do as much, no, more to each other. Many was the night where Kris, woken by their love-making, would need to reach down and rid himself of the uncomfortable stiffness between his legs. 

 

“Tie-mates.” Neil said, stifling a laugh. “That what you want to be with my brother?”

 

“Wouldn’t mind it.” Kris said, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe get us a little schooner, go out to sea...let him take me round the cape a few times.”

 

“Reverend Allen!” Neil exclaimed, feigning shock. “What’s come over you?”

 

“Aye, me. Guess it’s all this time spent in prison with sailors - tie-mates at that. It’s roughened me up.” Kris retorted. It was preposterous, of course. He’d never met someone as well-spoken as Hornblower. He had been shocked to hear that scrappy Archie was the one of noble birth, while Hornblower had been a doctor’s son.

 

“Well make sure no one else is roughing you up.” Neil cautioned. “Our you’ll have me to answer to.”

 

“Oh, please, Neil. Look at them.” Kristopher said, rolling his eyes. Hornblower was watching Kennedy sleep. The moment was Horatio unguarded, a rare sight from what Kris could tell. Kennedy’s eyes flickered open, and he smiled up at Horatio, blushing a bit.  Kristopher knew the cause of his fatigue well enough.  “As if either one of them would pay me a second look.”

 

Later that evening, Horatio announced that Don Masseredo had given Neil leave to join their cell for a game of cards. Neil was happy to be let out of his solitary cell, and even happier when Horatio plunked down rum in front of him, looking rather pleased with himself.

 

“Careful.” Kennedy warned as Neil took a large gulp from the tin mug. “It will go to your head fast after a month with nothing in your belly but mash. Besides, Horatio is a match for any man at the table, much less a drunk one.”

 

“What about you?” Neil asked, trying to appraise Kennedy’s likely skill.

 

“I’m fair enough. A well practised loser, but when you have only Horatio to play against, it’s to be expected. Fresh meat should prove a pleasure for us both. Him as it will be a new challenge, me as it means we can play in pairs and I stand an even chance that way.”

 

Kristopher smiled at Mr. Kennedy, used to his self-effacing sense of humour. The two had become fast friends, being alike in temperament.

 

“Bugger your even chance.” Neil said, smirking. “You’ll play with me and Kristopher can pair with Hornblower. That way I can be assured you two don’t have some sort of code worked out.”

 

“Be careful, Mr. Lambert.” Hornblower spoke up, dealing out the hands. “The last man that accused me of cheating at cards didn’t meet with a very happy ending.  It’s good that I know from Kristopher you are fond of jesting.”  He wore a smile but his eyes were serious; Hornblower was a man that took honour seriously. 

 

“Let’s not speak of that, Horatio, if you please.” Kennedy said, frowning. Horatio at once looked pained and started to mumble an apology, but Archie hushed him. “We should talk about winnings.”

 

Kristopher took a sip from his rum, smiling at the warmth it sent through his stomach. He wished it were scotch, the better to remember the taste of Adam’s mouth, but the rum was plentiful if poor. 

 

“If we win.” Hornblower said, pausing. “You shall owe me a particular favour.  I believe you know of what I speak.”

 

“Aye.” Kennedy said, grinning and touching his nose. “Same should we win. I think those stakes are much heavier for you, to be honest, are you sure you don’t want to ask for something else?”

 

“I’m confident.” Horatio said with an arrogant tilt of his head. “Lambert?”

 

“If we win, Kristopher will have to answer all my questions about Katherine when she was a young thing. If you win, I’ll do the same for Adam.”

 

“Agreed.” Kristopher said, delighted with the wager. He’d love to know some of the details of Adam’s childhood from an outside perspective.

 

“Who’s Adam?” Kennedy asked, looking at Kristopher in a new light.  Kristopher picked up his cup and drank, feeling his ears burn.  He wasn’t worried, not really, about the navy men knowing his secret, but they had not disclosed their relationship either. Perhaps it was best never spoken of.

 

“My brother.” Neil said, after a moment’s hesitation. “He is a great friend of Kristopher’s. The two of them are always trading japes. I thought Kris would want new material.”

 

“I see.” Archie said, exchanging glances with Horatio. “Your brother, he wouldn’t happen to have reddish hair, maybe a bit more ginger than mine? A tall bloke?”

 

“He does at that.” Neil said, surprised. “Are you well acquainted?”

 

“I am quite a fan of the theatre.” Kennedy disclosed, laughing and shaking his head. “When I was a younger man I hung about Drury Lane like a lad clinging to his mother’s skirts. Mostly out of sight but always present. As I started to grow up, I became well acquainted with many of the actors and producers in the shows. Even did a stint on stage myself once when a man playing Olivia took ill. That man was Mr. Bradley Bell. Adam was the producer, and all but begged me to go on for him. I knew all the lines, you see, I had been sitting side stage for months.”

 

“Oh.” Kristopher said, blushing even deeper now. If Archie knew about Bradley Bell, there was no way he could mistake the implication that Kristopher was romantically connected to Adam. However, by his very admission, he had run with the same set of people.

 

“My father found out about it and shipped me off to the Navy at first opportunity. So, in a way, I have your brother to thank for my current predicament.” Kennedy said, grinning cheekily. “Though being in the Navy has brought with it its share of blessings, I suppose.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

“So are you very close with Mr. Lambert then, Allen?” Archie asked as he ranked and cut the cards. Kristopher was not practised at whist, but his mother was a shrewd player and he had often partnered with her for family games.

 

“Hearts will trump. Lead off, Neil.” Hornblower interjected, all business on the small wooden table they had been allowed for the evening.

 

“About as close as you and Lieutenant Hornblower, I would guess, though we do not have the benefit of a long acquaintance. I was called to serve as a Chaplain before we could get to know each other quite so well.” Kristopher chose his words more carefully than he chose his hard, playing a low value heart, which earned him an eye-roll from Hornblower as Archie took the trick.

 

“Spades.” Hornblower announced, leading off on his own with a low card to start off.  He watched the progression of play like a hawk – Kristopher had never seen such an avid student of the game.

 

“I had no idea we had so much in common.” Archie said, opening his mouth to say more but a warning glance from Horatio stilled his tongue. “Oh, come off it, Horatio – it’s clear as day that he knows, and obviously Captain Lambert does as well. We’re all friends here.”

 

“No cause to throw our customary caution to the wind.” Hornblower said sagely. “The wrong guard could overhear, or Captain Lambert could make an ill-timed jest and you and I would return to the Indy only to hang from her yard arm.”

 

“I should think I know the better part of discretion, having my brother as he is for all these years.” Neil said, looking slightly offended.

 

“And what of it?” Horatio asked, brows pinched severely. “Should his enterprises be discovered, what then? Oh, the small folk would talk; perhaps the pastors would sermonise – present company excluded, obviously.  It is a different matter all together when a man’s career – no, his very life hang in the balance.  I should think that Kristopher must find the arrangement more difficult than your brother ever had to. The Bishop would not be pleased to make such a discovery. I am not a religious man, but that much I know.”

 

“I..” Kristopher started, taking a moment to pull a king of spades free. “The arrangement, as such, has not been come to as of yet. I suppose you can say we were in negotiation when I left for the Army.”

 

“You poor lamb.” Archie said sympathetically. “Damn you! “ He cursed a moment later, when Kristopher laid down his card and took the trick.

 

“That’s a lad.” Hornblower said approvingly, marking the point on a tally sheet, which was more for their benefit than his own, Kristopher strongly suspected. Horatio seemed to have a great head for figures.

 

“...you haven’t had any prior arrangements, then?” Archie continued, sorting his hand again.

 

“Not really, no. I was almost engaged to Captain Lambert’s wife, actually, but he mucked that up for me.” Kristopher teased, feeling the effects of the rum begin to take hold.  Archie let loose a great laugh, and even Horatio chuckled slightly.

 

“I guess women are just another way I trump Reverend Allen.” Neil said, laying down his trump card and taking the trick.  Kristopher looked up at Hornblower, expecting to see dismay, but instead his eyes lit up.

 

“Oh, bugger all.” Kennedy said. “We’re done for.”

 

“Whatever do you mean? We’ve still two hands to play!”

 

“The next two tricks are both mine.” Horatio announced, folding his hand.

 

“But we haven’t even played them yet!” Neil protested, eyebrows rumpled together.

 

“It doesn’t matter. I know what cards I have in my hand, and the cards that have been played. By cataloguing the style of your play, I can say with mathematical certainty that I will take the next two. If you’d like to play a test round to be sure, I am more than happy to oblige.”

 

Neil looked to Archie, who shrugged impishly.

 

“He’s never been wrong, that I know of.” Archie said, batting his eyelashes innocently.

 

“Well, fuck all.” Neil said, tossing his hand down. “This was the most surreal game of whist I’ve played, I’ll give you blokes that.

 

“How do you mean?” Horatio said, cocking his head to the side.

 

“Game of cards, bit of spirit...it’s common for young men to talk about their conquests, eh? First game I ever played where the men were more keen on chasing tail coats rather than tail ends.” Neil said, folding his arms. “Makes for enlightening table talk.”  Kristopher and Archie exchanged worried glances, looking in unison towards Horatio. Nervously, Archie raised his mug of rum and sipped.

 

“If you think that’s enlightening, you should hear my pillow talk.” Horatio quipped, arching an eyebrow. He was commonly so serious that the ribald expression seemed out of place on his face, making the gesture all the more ridiculous.

 

Archie nearly gagged on his laughter, and Kristopher joined in as Neil raised his mug and clinked it with Hornblower’s.

 

“I think I’ll pass, thanks. I’m sure Kristopher can fill me in on the more embarrassing details. No wonder the poor man hasn’t been getting any sleep.” Neil said, pushing back from the table. It was almost time for the guards to escort him to his solitary confinement chamber.  Even after his leg healed, Neil’s wit and disposition had quickly angered the Don, landing him a bunk in solitary rather than in the Officer’s cell.

 

“Oh, come now, Neil. I sleep quite soundly, thank you very much. There’s no cause to insinuate any improper behaviour.” Kris said, unable to look up.

 

“Good heavens, thank God above you’re a Chaplain and not a spy.” Neil said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t fool a small child.”  Neil caught the eye of the guard, who had only just appeared outside the door. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.  I hope you have an enjoyable evening.” He finished with a wink, allowing the guard to lead him out.

 

Kris looked at the two men in silence.

 

“Well,  I guess I’ll be heading to bed.” He said, stretching his arms.

 

“Not so fast, Allen.” Kennedy said, moving close beside him and lowering his voice.  He glanced at Horatio as if asking for permission and Kris saw Horatio give a small nod.

 

“You knew. Why didn’t you say something?” Archie said. “Especially if...we thought you were asleep.”

 

“I figured it was none of my business, and it was only a few times that I heard.” Kris lied, making Archie chuckle.

 

“Neil’s right, you really do have no face for lies, even little ones.”

 

“Well. I know about the articles, and what the two of you must face when you are aboard ship. I figure I oughtn’t interrupt you when you have a chance to be as normal lovers are. If I were hope with Adam, I wouldn’t care who was within earshot at present.” Kris said, sounding braver than he felt.

 

"We’re lucky, Horatio and I. Captain Pellew would have to catch me on my knees for Horatio in front of the entire crew to find fault with him.  But I caution you, Kristopher, when you get back home – just because you do not have the threat looming large above you does not mean it isn’t present. Your Adam was not discreet in London.   People maybe have turned a blind eye at the time because of his parent’s recent death, and London does afford some anonymity, but his reputation was well known amidst certain circles. If you continue close association with him in public, it is likely that your priesthood could be in jeopardy, should the right words reach the right ears.” Archie warned, patting Kristopher on the arm.




 

“Thank you. I suppose I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Usually I just think about how much I miss him – distance has made me bold.”

 

Archie smiled, tossing a look Hornblower’s way.

 

“You should have seen me when Horatio turned up. I was fevered, delirious, and out of my mind with love for him. He had to literally silence me with his hand at points, I was hell bent on knowing if he still loved me as he once had.”

 

“As I always will.” Horatio added from across the room, making Archie flush.

 

“It’s not so different, loving another man.  I wonder why God considers it so offensive. If indeed he does, though I am not sure I entirely trust a strict interpretation of Leviticus.” Kris reasoned, thinking of how sweet the usually stern Hornblower could be with Archie. “My parents, when they found out what I was, would read me the bible and I thought that maybe it would be different. That it would be delighting in wickedness.”

 

“Sometimes it is, but it is like that with women, too.”

 

“You’ve--?” Kris asked in surprise, unaware that others felt like he did.

 

“Oh yes.” Archie said, grinning. “Though I found I prefer men.  Or at least, I prefer Horatio.”

 

“Has he – have you, Hornblower?”

 

“With a woman? Heavens no.” Horatio said, wrinkling his nose. “I can’t fathom ever wanting to, outside of duty, of course.”

 

“Horatio will have to take a wife someday, when he becomes an admiral.” Archie explained, laughingly. “I pity the poor creature that marries him. He’ll likely be nauseous though the entire ceremony.”

 

“It’s not my fault my father was a doctor!” Horatio protested, wincing in recollection. “He couldn’t afford a nurse, so as soon as I was able he’d take me on house calls. I can’t tell you how many babies I saw come into the world.  No, I saw enough of _That_ to last a life time.”

 

“Oh, Horatio, you are positively insufferable. What woman would ever have you?”  Archie said, shaking his head.

 

“Well you seem to enjoy it well enough. A good job I ended up in prison here.” Horatio retorted, playing hurt.

 

“A fate for which I will never stop thanking the good Lord.” Archie said, moving back over to their beds. “Allen,” Archie said before stripping his trousers off, “Do let me know if you have any ...questions, of a sort. Or if you’d like a night of uninterrupted sleep, I can sufficiently manage to keep him at bay for one night, I should think.  Other than tonight. I’ve got a bet to pay up on.” Archie grinned like a cat at the cream, and Kristopher bid them both a fond good night.

 

Kris fell asleep with a smile on his face, heart full of the thought of home. He slept through the night uninterrupted, for his own dreams were loud enough to drown out any other happenings that may have taken place in the night.

 

 

 

***

 

"DAMN, damn, double damn!" Adam cursed as he left the Admiralty house, kicking a statue for good measure. His father's friend, had set him up with a Mr. Charles at the Admiralty, who was in charge of foreign prisoner liaisons for the Navy.  Since, due to their transportive capacities, the Navy tended to be more well informed about such matters than the Army, it was thought that Adam might have more luck there.  Unfortunately, Mr. Charles had no word of Kristopher or Neil.

 

"Tis early days, yet, Mr. Lambert." He had cautioned. "It's only been two months since they've gone missing. Why, I've had boys rot in Spanish prison for years before Spain deign it fitting to let us know."

 

"Can't you fathom a guess as to where they might be? We know where the battle took place." Adam had protested, growing rapidly disillusioned with military process.

 

"Well, they’re not my men, so I hesitate to say." Charles had said before peering closer at a must scrawled-upon map of Spain. "Closest prison is El Ferrol, but she's a tiny thing. Only room for four or five officers, maybe a dozen men in total.  More like they took them to one of the larger ones in the south, if either is alive."  Mr. Charles had sounded dubious, but Adam had bit his tongue, thanking the man for his time.

 

"All the same, couldn't I write to El Ferrol? It's better than a shot in the dark. Maybe someone saw something."

 

"Write?" Charles had gasped, looking as though he thought Adam was the most foolish person he had ever been troubled with. "We're at war! It's not as though your brother and friend took a bloody holiday to Madrid.  There isn't a bloody post to Spanish Prison, is there?

 

"No, I suppose not." Adam had felt foolish. "I'll be off then."

 

Charles had sighed, looking sympathetic.

 

"Look, here's what I'll do.  I'll run their names in the prisoner dispatch, right alongside the Navy lists of missing personnel. Maybe one of our lads has seen them, or heard of them. A captured chaplain isn't exactly the most common of prisoners - there's a chance one of our returning boys might've met up with them.  But, Mr. Lambert, you have to know that most often in cases like these, they don't turn up. Like as not they fled when the battle turned south and Spanish regulars caught up with them at some point. It's more like they found a firing squad rather than a prison cell, if you take my meaning."

 

"All the same," Adam had said, nodding. "I appreciate you trying. I shall arrange supper for you and your wife at my club, should you like."

 

"Most kind of you." Charles had said, tipping his fore-and-aft and giving Adam a watery smile. "A little appreciation never goes awry."

 

Adam had stewed the entire way out of the columned, marble floored building. Now, he sat on the steps and hung his head, fighting hard not to cry with impotent rage. He had been in the city for three weeks and hadn't been able to make any significant headway. A few of his former associates had dropped by to wish him well upon hearing that he was in the city.  They invited him to a few social gatherings, but Adam refused on the grounds of distress over the disappearance of his only living relative.

 

"Navy wouldn't accept your commission?"  The voice was unmistakable; high pitched and emotive with just a hint of a cockney accent. Adam raised his head and drew in a sharp breath. "Nothing to sob about, I was rather under the impression that they don't fancy lads like you or I. Emphasis on the fancy." Brad extended a hand and Adam took it, not knowing what else to do. He rose, slightly amused by the fact that Bradley stood a few steps below him, making the difference in their height all the more apparent. They looked at each other a long while. Bradley was wearing a new suit, a green velvet about-town suit with a gray hat. He carried a black cane, which made the overall look rather garish for mid-afternoon, but Bradley had always been a bit roguish in his manner of dress.

 

"Good day, Mr. Bell." Adam said, pleased with his even tone. He started down the stairs, not even glancing over his shoulder to see if Bradley was following him. The sound of his footsteps was clue enough, Bradley taking two to every one of Adam's strides.

 

"I heard you were back in town." Bradley said, "Was the country air too cold for you?"

 

"It was lovely, thanks. I'm only in town a brief while. My brother has gone missing in Spain."

 

"I didn't know you cared so deeply for him." Bradley said, tilting his head. "I've only seen you this out of sorts once before."

 

Adam was about to open his mouth about Kristopher, but he held back. What business of Bradley's was Kristopher? Besides, Bradley had a mouth the size of Parliament. It wouldn't be a fortnight before word that Adam Lambert had lost his heart to a rural pastor now lost at war would be social news of the season amidst their old set.

 

"We reconnected at Heathwick." Adam said simply. "His wife is expecting their first born."

 

"Ah. Don't want to get stuck playing Daddy, I take your meaning." Bradley winked. Adam was accustomed to Bradley's flirtatiousness; in fact, when they had first met it had been what drew him to Bradley. Now, it felt overused and unwelcome - like a game forced upon him by a child.

 

"That's not it. I'd be happy to, should circumstances require."

 

"But then you'd never come back to London. We miss you here, you know."

 

"You don't have the right to miss me, Bradley. As I remember it, this separation was your idea." Adam was growing more agitated by the second.

 

"Doesn't mean I can't change my mind. Would you like that?" He placed his hand on Adam's arm to slow him. "If I changed my mind."

 

Adam looked down at Bradley's face. He was exquisite; slender and more angular in his features than Kristopher. They had the same brown eyes, except that Bradley's had no warmth in him. Bradley was a gifted actor, but Adam knew him well. There was panic in his gaze, a nervous desperation that was driving him to act.

 

"He cast you aside, didn't he?"  Adam said, eyes narrowing. "Your little Lordling."

 

"He was called away from London," Bradley said, chin held high, "to marry the daughter of a baron. He wanted me to go with him to Cornwall, but I'll not leave London. Who in their right mind would?  I was going to end it with him at any rate, but I thought it best to wait until my show closed. He had bankrolled it, of course, and I thought it polite at least."

 

"How kind of you. I don't remember getting the same courtesy." In fact, Bradley had ended their relationship mid-run, and Adam had been forced to watch the last few shows in utter misery.

 

"I do learn from my mistakes." Bradley said, nodding. "I'd like to show you just how much." Brad leaned a little closer, looking about the small street discreetly. "We're not far from my apartment.” 

 

"Bradley..." Adam started, hating that, for a moment, he had considered it. Being back in London had made him miss Bradley and their old friends - his old life.  Returning to Heathwick had changed him, though. There was more to life than the constant pursuit of pleasure that had been his life with Bradley. "You were very cruel to me."

 

"I'll let you punish me for all my sins. This way." Bradley said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr as he tugged on Adam's arm. He tilted his head to indicate a narrow back alley. There was a set of stairs rising to a small flat above a bakery. "Stay the night. I'll get us a treat in the morning."

 

"No, Bradley." Adam said, shaking his head sadly.

 

"Would you rather go back to yours? It's a longer walk, love, and I can't wait catch up on lost time."

 

"I would rather go back to mine, but you're not going to come with me. Not now, not later." Adam said firmly, plucking Bradley's hand off his forearm.

 

Brad looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

 

"You've found someone new." He said, eyes narrowing accusingly. "You went back north and took up with some farmer's son."

 

"And what if I did?" Adam said angrily, not bothering to correct him. "You made your loyalties clear enough."

 

"It was a mistake." Bradley argued. "I thought you'd be happy. I was happy, when I heard you were back. I thought that maybe you had come back for me." He would, Adam thought bitterly, enjoy the idea of Adam riding back to London to try and reclaim him like a princess. Bradley looked a little hurt, and even more desperate than before. Adam remembered the worry of Mr. Allen; that Kris would find himself without means and no reputation amidst polite society.

 

"Have you a job, Brad?" Adam asked softly.

 

"What's that got to do with anything?" Brad said, clearly getting defensive.  "It's not even theatre season yet, you know that."

 

"Still, you should have something lined up. You don't, do you?"

 

"There's fewer shows this year, on account of the war. Not as much leisure coin. Lots of men of quality have gone off to the Army, and their wives don't come to the theatre alone." Brad was rarely this open; not that he was a liar, he usually just omitted anything that was uncomfortable.

 

"This is about my money, isn't it?"

 

"No! Well, yes and no. I miss you, I miss our life together. Wasn't it fabulous, Adam? The shows, the parties...I miss being on your arm. I miss you being so proud of me."

 

"You threw that away, Bradley, and for what? On the off chance that you'd take a step up in the world? It's not as if he were going to marry you, fool." Adam was fighting against the welling of tears in his eyes, so frustrated by his lot. Was he committing a similar error? Throwing away an easy regression for the dream of what he and Kristopher could have?

 

"You were changing. Everyone said so; it wasn't just me. You were going to head back north, and grow up for good. Where would that have left me?"

 

"Even if that were true, you could have gone with me. You could have talked with me about it."

 

"You're right, Adam. I am a fool. I'm a sodding idiot. Not just for leaving you, but for thinking you could still love me. I was right. You did change.  So go on, go back to your farm boy. I hope he's waiting for you." Bradley said, brown eyes full.

 

"Would that he was." Adam's heart felt like it had sunk to the bottom of his stomach; he took no joy in Bradley's misery. He turned, continuing on the path back to his flat and resolving to send a few pounds to the baker who owned Brad's apartment. It would hopefully stave off any desperate actions until he could find employment. Though being Bradley, Adam could never entirely count on rational behavior. However, he thought as he walked down the cobblestone street, Adam felt liberated – as though he had been a fortress under siege and his enemy had finally surrendered.

 

***

 

“I KNOW that Archie said you were waiting on a release, but I never expected it to materialize.” Kristopher said, joining Hornblower in the courtyard for an afternoon stroll.

 

“Don Masseredo, in spite of some of his methods, is an honourable man. I would that he had taken better care of Archie when he first arrived here, but Archie was suffering from ills that Masseredo had no clue how to heal, and they made him act irrationally.”  Hornblower said, lowering his voice that they might speak confidentially.

 

“He seems to be doing well now.  Whatever ailed him then seems to be long behind him.”

 

“Long behind him, but never truly gone.  In some ways, Kristopher, your father did you a great service, sending you to the priesthood.” Kris had confided in Archie and Horatio the story of his childhood friend being hung for an Article Twenty-Nine violation, and how he had come to enter the clergy. It was nice, after all these years of holding the secret close, to have friends to confide in that understood. Kris wished that Adam might meet Horatio and get re-acquainted with Kennedy. He thought that Adam would very much like them.

 

“How do you mean?” Kris asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Every Sunday, the articles of war are read. Twenty-Nine states ‘Any man caught in the act of sodomy or is proven to have committed such acts is to be hanged by the neck until dead. Any man caught in the act of perverse behaviour or ejaculation with another man shall likewise be hanged by the neck until dead.’  ‘Tis a heavy thing to lay on a child, come aboard at fifteen or sixteen.  Worse yet, the older men know it, and use the fear of it to silence boys who would speak out if so abused. Archie joined the service when he was almost 17, but –well, look at him.” Kris knew what he was implying Kennedy was a beautiful man, and youth must have made him even more so. Even though he was well-formed, he was slight of stature, and at a younger age he would not have been so well muscled. “It didn’t take much to threaten him to keep quiet.”

 

“He was taken advantage of?” Kris asked, bewildered. Of course, it was foolish to think that rape did not occur among men, but he had never given it much thought.

 

“Most cruelly. Prison has been tough on him, but it was nothing compared to the hell he  endured before he was captured...but I digress. I only tell you this because I fear that you are coming to resent your vocation.”

 

“What do you care for my vocation? You aren’t religious in the faintest.”

 

“I know, but you are. Your belief is a wonderful thing, and I envy you for it. Do not throw it out to replace it with a religion of a different sort. Do not lose who you are, I should say, in pursuit of another person. I am careful with Archie, you see. It is good for a midshipman to respect his senior officer, but it is not so good for a man to idolize his lover. Keep your faith close, Kristopher Allen, and it may serve you well.” Hornblower held out his hand in friendship and Kristopher took it, smiling at the man he had come to respect.  “I shall let you say your goodbyes to Kennedy. I fear he’ll miss you on board. Are you sure you won’t come with us?”

 

Don Masseredo had paid Kristopher a visit, informing him that since he was a member of the clergy and had never bourn arms against Spain, he was free to leave on the Indefatigable with Hornblower and Kennedy. Long had Kristopher considered it, but in the end he had decided to remain with Neil.  Neil had chided him for a bloody fool, but when it came down to it, Kristopher did not trust Neil’s mouth with Masseredo’s temper; at least not without him there to temper them both.

 

“Nay. I shall trust you to convey my letter to Adam when you return to London – the post should carry it from there to Heathwick.  I am sure I can wait until the Army decides what is to be done about Neil shortly, once they have knowledge of his whereabouts.” Kristopher said, wishing there was a way to convince Masseredo to let them both leave. Neil was a legitimate prisoner, however, and would be worth something in trade back to Britain.

 

“Good man.” Horatio said, clearly pleased with Kristopher’s choice to remain beside his friend. “Now, go see Kennedy before he starts to pine.” Horatio laughed and gave Kristopher a quick, stiff embrace. “All my best with your Adam.”  He whispered, and strode off to ready his men for their departure.

 

Archie’s goodbye was surprisingly short. They were much closer friends, however, so perhaps Archie had imparted his advice already. Indeed, Kristopher had learned all sorts of things from Archie. That one would use tallow wax to make it easier on one’s lover, or a woman’s skin cream if you were willing to spend good coin. However, t’was easier to explain away the tallow. Archie had related a story about getting caught with a woman’s skin cream and how he had to lie and say it was a gift for his sister and he thought he’d try some. He had been teased mercilessly for a week by some of the men, and looked at with hunger by others that knew what it was likely for.   Kristopher had also learned that if he didn’t want their first time to hurt, he had better be proactive about it.  He still hadn’t found the courage explore that particular activity with others in the cell – what if he made an untoward sound – but he was curious to see what the results of such exploration would yield.




 

“We’ll see each other again, I’m sure of it. “ Archie said, smiling sadly. “You’ll be back at Heathwick before you know. Take care of Neil. “

 

“I shall.” Kristopher promised. “If you’re ever nearby –“

 

“My family’s estate is even further north.” Kennedy laughed. “When I come home for leave I practically pass North Gate by. Perhaps I’ll stop over on my way.”

 

“Do.” Kris said, feeling a little odd about inviting guests to Adam’s home, but it was Neil’s home too, and Kristopher figured Neil owed him enough by now.  He’d been sweet talking Masseredo into lowering Neil’s various punishments for poor behaviour for months.

 

“With Adam...the way you speak of him is so different from the man I knew as a youth, though perhaps I was too young to see him for what he was. I hope he doesn’t break your heart, Kristopher.”

 

“He won’t.” Kris said, firmly.

 

“All these months, without a word from you...My family thought I was dead, you know. Had a funeral for me and everything. I would have paid to see the look on their faces when they got the letter from Captain Pellew. But prepare yourself, Kristopher. His heart might have changed in your absence.”

 

“I shall endeavour to have realistic expectations.” Kris had not thought of the possibility of moving on – he had simply focused on the promise Adam had made to him before he left. Did Adam know he was in prison? Did Adam know he was still alive? Kris had no idea how much news filtered back to the homeland about the success or failure of military activities. Most likely, Adam was at Heathwick, blissfully unaware that anything had gone wrong and perhaps mildly annoyed that Kristopher had been unable to write.

 

“Nevertheless, remember me to him, and I wish you both the happiness I have found. It is not the easiest course, but if I am any judge of these things, I’d say it’s the one for you.”

 

“Thank you, my friend. Same to you.” Kris embraced Archie fondly, and if Archie sniffled a bit, Kristopher was good enough not to chide him for it.

 

***

 

THE WEATHER had turned cold, as it was wont to do come November. Adam was walking back to his flat after another disappointing day of trying to find a single person in His Majesty’s Army that knew the whereabouts of his brother.

 

“He’d be with a Chaplain.” Adam would say hopefully, but all the recently ransomed prisoners would shrug their shoulders and suggest a different prison where they might have been held. If they were to be believed, Spain was filled exclusively with villas and military prisons.

 

“Hallo.” A voice said, startling him as he put his key into the lock.

 

“Damn it, Bradley, you startled me.”  Adam said, turning. “Just a moment.” He finished fiddling with the lock, the metal skeleton key cold against his fingers. He really needed to remember to start carrying gloves.  “Well, come in then.” Brad had been turning up on his doorstep with increasing frequency and varying intent. Sometimes he just seemed lonely; they would share a glass of wine and a chat and Bradley would be on his way.  Other times he would turn up drunk, and Adam would put on his cloak and hat and march him back to his own flat. Worst of all where the times where Brad would show up in his worst clothes, asking if he might be trusted with a small loan. Adam always sent him off with a few pounds, not even bothering to tally an amount.  In some ways, he was grateful for the company.  Adam could not remember being more alone. He spent most days trying to work his way up the military command structure, or reading whatever dispatches he had been sent home with.  Adam would occasionally take supper at his father’s old club, and aside from a few “How do you dos” Adam mostly ate alone, in silence, listening to the generation above him swap stories of their youth. The youth Adam should be enjoying now, as he was fast outgrowing it.

 

“Come out with me.” Bradley said once they were inside. He was dressed to impress, in a fine brown coat which brought out the copper flecks in his eyes. Adam had purchased it for him last season, and it still looked fine on him.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bradley. I have business to attend to, papers to-“

“You’ve been at it for three months.” Bradley chided. “Surely Neil would have given up on you by this point. So why not go home to your farm boy? Or Neil’s widow, whichever it is. What’s keeping you here?”

 

Adam didn’t respond, so Bradley drew closer. He felt his pulse begin to race as Bradley’s all-to-familiar scent wafted over him; opium smoke and spice.

 

“There’s a party at Ten Bells. A bunch of the old set will be there. They’ve been asking me for you, Adam. It’d be rude of you not to at least say hello. Even if I wronged you, they didn’t.” His voice was smooth, the way it always was when playing Cleopatra or Titania.  Adam still said nothing. It had been three months, and he was tired of solitude. It would be good to see their old friends again. 

 

“Or we could stay in, if you like. I wouldn’t mind that.” He drew closer still, close enough to lay his hand just beneath Adam’s chin. “Whatever you wish, only don’t send me away again. I’ve been good, Adam. I’ve been patient. If you love your farm boy so much, why are you here in London without him?”

 

“He’s not a farm boy.” Adam said, between clenched teeth.  Bradley didn’t remove his hand or step back. Instead he pressed his body against Adam’s.

 

“There is no farm boy, is there?”

 

“There is. Well no, he’s not a farm boy, but ... damn it, man. There is someone.” Adam backed away at last. “He’s with Neil, or at least I hope he is.”

 

“A soldier?” Bradley’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Oh, Adam. They’re diseased, good God; every molly knows not to let a soldier anywhere near.”

 

“Heavens, Brad. He’s a Chaplain, not a foot soldier. He’s not down by the docks looking for a quick toss with whomever he can find.”

 

“A priest?” Brad’s voice shifted, immediately intrigued. Maybe even a little impressed. “Blimy, Adam. Where’d you find him? Did you join a Hellfire club?” He asked with a gasp. “Will you take me?”

 

“No. No, he’s not like that, you don’t understand. It’s an affair entirely of the heart-“

 

“-so he’s ugly?” Brad interjected.

 

“Not at all!” Adam protested. “Bradley, you won’t understand.”

 

“Well.  I certainly will not if you do not explain. Not that you owe me an explanation.” He said bitterly.”

 

“I don’t.” Adam agreed, but the hurt look on Bradley’s face was impossible to ignore. He sighed. “Kristopher Allen is –was– the pastor of my family’s church at Heathwick. He’s young, too young to get a parish of his own were it not for the recommendation of my brother Neil. You see, Neil had recently become engaged to the lad’s childhood sweetheart.  Not wanting to be apart from the apple of his eye, the poor lad agreed to come with them to Heathwick and be the pastor there.”

 

“He likes women.” Brad stated, looking sceptical. “What have you gotten yourself in to, I wonder?”

 

“No! Well, yes. He likes both, I guess. It’s not that uncommon. At any rate, he was sad over losing his intended, and I was sad over you, and so we were sort of sad together. The thing is, we enjoyed each other’s company so much that we soon forgot to be sad. My spirits would lift at our every interaction. Then the church burned down.”

 

“Foreboding.” Brad said, engaged in the story.

 

“Ill-timed. Neil was almost ready to leave for the service, and he got it in his head that Kristopher was something of a threat to him. You know, while the cat’s away and all that. More than that, I think he felt bad for dangling his happiness with Katherine in front of Kris’s face. You know Neil – he’s always acting first and thinking later.  So, while Kristopher and I were slowly falling in love, Neil was setting plans in place to take Kristopher with him as Chaplain of his unit. The church had no use for him at Heathwick until the parish is reconstructed, and when presented with the opportunity to minister to those truly in need of him – how could he refuse?”

 

“So he left” Bradley said “just when the story was getting good.”

 

“It was plenty good before. Just not salacious. We spoke of our intentions the night before he left.  Adam felt defensive all at once. Would Bradley think him foolish, pinning his hopes on Kristopher?

“So you sent him, all wound up and desperate, into a full battalion of well-uniformed and lonely men.  Oh, well done, Lambert. You worked that one nicely for yourself.”

 

“Oh, hush. He’s not like that.  He comes from a good family – I met his parents, even. But please, Bradley. If you have any love left in your heart for me, do not repeat this. If the worst should be true, I would not want to tarnish his name with scandal. If the best happens and he is found... well we have a lot of decisions to make before we rush into anything.” Adam was earnest in his words, but Bradley just laughed again.

 

“You silly man. If your boy comes home, I would like to see the both of you have any sort of discussion before you’re devouring each other. For all your good intentions and new maturity, you are still the same Adam. Don’t think I have forgotten  your appetites.” The look he shot Adam was pure desire, and Adam nearly buckled under the force of it.

 

“Bradley, please.”

 

“Oh, you have nothing to fear from me. I wouldn’t have you now even if you wanted me. Not when your heart is in Spain. But what if he never comes home? What then?”

 

“Do not ask me for promises, Bradley. My heart is not so easily changed as yours.” Bradley withdrew a moment, looking stung.

 

“No, I deserve that.” He said after a moment, shaking his head. “But still, Adam. My offer for tonight stands. Join me, as a friend, for a pint. It’d been a long time. It’s a welcoming home party, you see.  Do you remember that boy who was my accidental understudy a few years back? Archie Kennedy?”

 

“Blonde hair, blue eyes, little snub nose, arse ripe for- yeah, I remember him. Cute little thing, wasn’t he? Where’d he get off to?”

 

“The Navy.” Brad grinned cheekily. “Apparently he’s got a few weeks leave on account of he’s spent the last three years rotting away in a Spanish prison.”

 

“You jest! Bradley! Surely you jest.”

 

“When do I ever jest, I am the picture of seriousness at all times, and I thank you to remember it.”  Bradley said, nose in the air.

 

“Brad, don’t play with me, I beg you. I’ve been questioning every Army man that’s returned home, but I’m only on notice with the Navy. They said they would ask around for me, I haven’t been able to-“ Adam was babbling, and Brad held up his hand.

 

“I won’t keep you in suspense. He saw me and pulled me aside straight away to ask if I knew where you might be found. He said he had a letter for you, from a Chaplain he was acquainted with in prison. He wouldn’t give it to me outright, but I promised I’d return shortly with you.”

“I...how...why didn’t you say so? Bradley!” Adam chided, throwing on his cloak and hat again, remembering to shove gloves in his pocket.

 

“I didn’t know anything about a Chaplain, so I thought I’d better get to the bottom of it.  For all I know you could have been a spy now. You’ve been spending so much time at Army headquarters and –“ Adam shot him an incredulous look – “and I wanted one last shot before I delivered you to the hands of what was most likely this secret lover you’ve been keeping from me.”

 

“So what if I had taken  you up on it?”

 

“Then the letter wouldn’t matter, would it?  I could have just told you where Neil was and we could have gone on our merry.” Brad looked a little sad, so Adam embraced him.

 

“You’re a good friend, Mr. Bell.”  He whispered into Bradley’s ear. He pulled back and kissed him softly on the forehead. “I shan’t forget this.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about this Bell. It’s the Ten Bells we’re for. Let’s be off, shall we?” Bradley held out his arm, and Adam took it gladly.

 

It was a brisk two mile walk to the Ten Bells and Adam walked in rhythm with his heart beat, which was thrumming so fast in his chest that he had to practically drag little Bradley down the street.  The interior of the Ten Bells was everything Adam had remembered. A well-known hang out for prostitutes and ne’r-do-wells of all sorts, it was a favourite haunt of their old set because the drinks were cheap and the company colourful. Also the proprietors tolerated a lot of drunken antics that would have gotten them thrown out at many of the more well-thought-of establishments.  Archie Kennedy was not hard to spot, standing as he was on top of a bench. He was clad in his Navy uniform, which became him even more than the dress he had once donned as Brad’s replacement had. He was telling an animated story to a delighted crowd of men and women alike, dressed widely and already quite inebriated. At his side stood a rather out-of-place looking young man, who managed to make even his cork-screw curls appear serious.  He clutched a glass of rum like it was a bit of rope to which he was clinging for dear life.

 

“Well here he is!” Slurred Kennedy, pointing at Adam. Twenty pairs of eyes turned towards him, eager expectant. “Didn’t I promise you he’d be here?” The crowd applauded. Archie hopped down off the bench and strode towards Adam. “Just as pretty as I remember you. More serious though, like my ‘Ratio.”

 

Adam stood there, trying to puzzle out what mathematical concept his demeanour could possibly be akin to, but the other sailor joined them.

 

“Horatio Hornblower, at your service, sir. Perhaps we could step outside.”

 

“At once!” Adam agreed, and turned to hold open the door. He was tugged back hard by Bradley, and faced a large group of rather angry looking inebriates

 

“Adam!”

 

“You can’t leave, you’ve only just arrived!”

He managed to assure them he was coming right back after he attended to some business, and they all winked and smiled as though something exceptionally wicked was about to happen in the back alley behind the Ten Bells. Adam didn’t bother to correct them. It wasn’t worth the time.

 

“Mr. Bell says you have a letter for me? From Reverend Allen?” Adam asked the moment they were outside. “Is my brother alive as well? Are they together? Are they well?” The words fell out of him as though he was regurgitating them after a long night of drinking. Indeed, he felt almost delirious.

 

“Shh, shhh. Kristopher is well, sends you his unswerving devotion and Yes, Yes. Neil is there too and is all right, save for a broken leg that healed wrong on account of him being in an oubliette –“

 

“Stick to the essentials, Archie.” Hornblower scolded. “Can’t you see he’s beside himself?” The man regarded Adam empathetically, as though he could understand all too well the pain that Adam was undergoing.

 

“They are in El Ferrol, a small prison thirty miles nor’west of La Broca-“  Archie spat out.

 

“I know of it. It’s run by a Masseredo, I believe? Small thing, only holds two dozen men at most, I believe. I have notes. I could check my notes.” Adam babbled, patting down his waistcoat for the little book he had almost filled completely with scribbles about potential locations Kris and Neil could be interred.

 

“That won’t be necessary.” Hornblower said, placing his hand on Adam’s arm. “We’re only just come from there, we know just where it is and how large it is.  But here is your letter from Kristopher-“

 

“He’s lovely!” Archie interjected drunkenly. “Adam, really lovely!”

 

“Thank you. Thank you.” Adam clasped the letter to his chest a moment before tucking it inside his waistcoat pocket. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

 

“That’s not all of it.” Horatio said, eyeing Archie. “I haven’t spoken of this with anyone, as I didn’t know how repugnant you’d consider it, but Don Masseredo told me that he would be willing to release Neil into my custody without an Army intermediary, should his family produce the ransom.”

 

“I don’t understand. Why would he?” Adam asked, fearing something had gone terribly awry.

 

“Well, it’s a matter of money, you see. When Spain sets a head price and sends it to England, the crown decides if the particular officer is worth that amount. More often than not, the crown will ask the family to pay the ransom, especially if the family is moneyed. Masseredo tells me that quite often, the ransom amount that the family pays is quite a bit more than the Dons ask for. I am sure this amount is used to cover transportation costs and processing, medical examinations and the like. However, Masseredo is willing to forgo the usual methods as long as he gets the entire fee.  Tomorrow, if you tell me no, I’m to report his location to the Army – who will no doubt contact you shortly with the bribe amount. You will then have about three more months, I’d guess, while the request gets verified and run through the usual channels.”

 

“Or?” Adam asked, almost afraid to ask.

 

“You pay me the money, enough for the bribe, and The Indefatigable makes for Spain in the morning with Archie and I aboard, and you should have Neil and Kristopher back in three weeks.  It’s techinically not illegal, but frowned upon by the Army, which is why I didn’t tell Neil about the possibility. I would hate to implicate them in any wrong doing. I hesitated to tell you, even, but Archie insisted you be given the –“

 

“Done. How much will you require.”

 

“The request is for twelve thousand. My captain requires another thousand for transportation. That’s a lot, I know, so if you need a day to liquidate any assets-“

 

“I’ll have it in your hands as soon as we get back to mine. I have twenty in a safe in my study.” He paused.” Do  you two have accommodations for the evening?”

 

“We were planning to take a room at an Inn near the docks at the Thames.”

 

“Nonsense. You’ll be my guests. We can leave immediately.” Adam said, motioning for them to follow.

 

“Horatio!” Archie squeaked when Horatio fell in step behind Adam, and Hornblower turned instantly.  “You promised!”

 

“Ah. So I did. As did Mr. Lambert.” Horatio tapped Adam on the shoulder. “We need to spend a little time at the party, I think. It’s Archie’s first time home in over three years. Unless I miss my mark, you also have cause to celebrate.”

 

Adam looked at the faces of his old friends through the window. Bradley was watching them intently.

 

“All right. For a little while, I suppose it would be polite.  Only, give me a moment to read the letter, will you? It’s practically burning a hole in my pocket. I’ll walk to the park yonder, be back in a minute.”

 

Adam crossed the empty street and took a seat on a patch of grass, partially illuminated by the moon. He opened the letter with trembling hands and began to read.

 

 

_Dearest,_

_If you are reading this letter, it is because my good friends Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower and Midshipman Archie Kennedy are true to their word.  I hope this letter finds you at Heathwick, well rested and happy and free of worry. I am so sorry I have been unable to write. If my lack of communication has caused you any small doubt I hope that this missive shall alleviate it.  I’ve been in prison, you see, along with Neil. It’s there that I met these two good sailors, who were shortly to be released. They share a bond like ours, Adam, and they give me hope that we will be reunited someday, and that we can live how they do. That is, together, always. _

_If I loved you when I left Heathwick, I do not know what feeling resides in my heart now. It seems altogether impossible that the four letters L-O-V-E can encompass all that I feel. Yet, I suppose even on a map, we only have four directions, and they in turn cover all the world. Perhaps love is like that, spreading out as it grows, even as my centre is ever pulled towards you. What I mean to say is that I loved you then; I love you still, and that I hope this letter will soon be followed by our reunion. _

_Neil is well, he does have a bit of a limp – long story. His mood could be much improved – prison has not been kind to him. He curses more, and talks of Katherine and the baby constantly.  If you could find a way to send word to him that all is well at home, his worry about be much alleviated._

_Also, if you could get word to my parents in Biggleswade that I am alive, I would be much indebted to you. I would like very much for you to meet them someday. Perhaps, when I come home, we can go for a visit.  I’ve written about you, but I want them to know what you are to me. Ah, but we can discuss this when and if I am released. Actually, Masseredo was willing to release me along with the sailors, but I thought it best to stay with Neil. I thought it was what you would want me to do. Forgive me, it was hard not to come running home to you at first opportunity. But he’s scared,  you see, more scared than he lets on. _

_I’m rambling. I have so much to tell you, but I only have this one piece of parchment and I’ve gone and used up both sides. I once was a man of few words, but all those words have built up to a deluge.  Forgive me, love me, and I pray I will be with you again soon._

_Your Kristopher_

Adam read the letter again and again, trying not to let his tears smudge the ink.  He would write Kristopher a letter to open the minute he got aboard the Indefatigable; one for Neil as well.  Then he would write to Katherine, the O’Connell’s, and the Allen’s to let them know of their change in fortune. For now, though, he almost skipped across the street to the Ten Bells. He owed a few friends, old and new, a round of drinks.

 

 

 


	5. Read What Silent Love Hath Writ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the lovers are reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to my beta-lovelies, Almostkind27 [lj] and Bamberrific [lj]
> 
> This WAS to be the last chapter, but as you'll see, these boys have a few more miles to travel together, and I thought we ought to indulge them.
> 
> Cover by the incomparable Katekat1010 [lj]
> 
> Amazing Chapter Illustration by be_a_bee [lj] (omg it's at the end, i love it so much i can't even)

 

 

 

 

“BLAST this bloody leg. I swear, Allen, if I ever find the tree trunk that dago pushed me over I’ll burn it down. And the dago with it, if I could arrange it. Do you think I could? Perhaps if you asked Masseredo for an escort, saying you lost some holy relic –“

 

“Focus, Lambert. You’re about to miss a step,” Kris cautioned, holding Neil’s arm tightly as he hobbled up and down the courtyard stair. He was bound and determined to get rid of his limp. Kris wasn’t sure that any amount of stair climbing would put it right – in truth, the bones had knit together poorly and Neil would probably never walk smoothly again. Stairs pained him especially. 

 

“Oh bugger the stair. I bet you _would_, too, you –“

 

“Impugning my good name isn’t going to make it hurt any less.” Kris was infinitely patient, which was good because Neil’s propensity towards verbal abuse when in anguish would have worn on a less tolerant soul.

 

“It does, actually,” Neil said, wincing. “Mocking you and curse words make this tolerable. If I curse enough I have so much fun I forget it hurts. You should try it, the glee of a well-timed swear is all that gets me though some days. Well, that and the hope that any day now those boys will make good on their promise to get us out of here as soon as they may.” Neil stumbled a bit, and Kris had to throw his shoulder against Neil’s chest in order to keep him from toppling forward.  Neil shot him a grateful look. “You think we’ll hear anything soon?”

 

“It’s been two weeks.  Who knows if their weather has been fair or foul or how long it could take a letter to reach Adam at Heathwick? Then consider how long it could take Adam to secure the funds and still then how long it might take to arrange transport.  I suppose it could be quite a long time,” Kris mused, heart sinking as he mentally tallied up the time it would likely take to arrange release. They could be here well into the next year.

 

“I might be a father by now.” Neil said, craning his head North as though he could see England.

 

“Surely not. Not unless something were drastically wrong. It’s only been eight months since your wedding.” Kris frowned, worried for Katherine all of a sudden. It had been awhile since he had thought of her – mostly when he thought of home he thought of Adam or his parents.

 

“Oh. Well, of course. As you say,” Neil said, smiling wryly. Kristopher ignored the insinuation, not wanting to hear the details of their intimate moments any more than Neil would appreciate a description of how Adam had kissed him. Their friendship was a strange one, and sometimes they shared more than fellows in their positions normally would out of loneliness, but there were some boundaries that Kris felt no need to cross.

 

    Later that night, Kris stretched his back, reaching his hands towards the cool stone wall. The surface was scratched where someone – probably Archie, Kris realised with a stab of loneliness – had etched three years’ worth of days into the stone.  He ran his fingers across the marks, trying to imagine if he had been stuck in El Ferrol for as long, on his own.  Archie had confessed that by the time Horatio had been imprisoned, he had been half-mad and attempting to starve himself.  With Horatio’s help, he had been able to become whole again.  It was reassuring to know that God had answered Archie’s prayers.  Kristopher had always had a hard time reconciling the concept of an all-knowing and all-loving God with the God that forbade the love in his heart. How could an all-loving God forbid the expression of love made manifest? If God could answer the prayers of Archie Kennedy, if He could repair the damage that had been done to his mind and spirit and heart, then God must love him. For Horatio, the man that Kennedy loved, to be the agent of this miracle... well, it could only mean that God accepted the bond between them as holy. As worthy.  As pure in His sight.

 

    Kristopher’s parents had taught him that God had a plan for him; that he would feel the hand of God in his life, pushing him further along His great path.  Kristopher had always believed it, had indeed felt the touch of God in his life.  He remembered the feeling when he met Adam for the first time, like a candle being lit. He remembered surrendering to God’s will when the church and parsonage had burned, when Neil had delivered the request from the Bishop to accompany the 28th to Spain.  It was if all his life led here, to the inside of this prison cell. He had not gone down into the oubliette as Neil had, not in a literal sense. Instead, he had endured a crisis of faith that had left him feeling just as alone and unable to move, fearing that God could no longer love him now that he had admitted his feelings for another man. He had been slowly sinking into that pit of doubt since he left England and, in truth, even before. He recalled his words to Adam on the night they parted, how it had appeared then that death and descent into Hell were inevitable.  He had been ashamed of his feelings, wanting to hide them from God, and thus had slowly begun to shut God out of his life. Other than going through the motions of service, he had barely spared a moment to reflect on his changing faith.  Hearing Archie talk so openly about both his religious beliefs and his love for Horatio had profoundly affected him, as had Horatio’s warning not to throw away his faith.  Seeing how God had blessed them gave Kristopher hope.   Perhaps God’s purpose in sending him to El Ferrol was for him to know that he was still loved and that He was guiding Kris back to Adam.

 

    Kris closed his eyes lightly, letting his contemplative thoughts slip away whilst listening to the soft fall of rain outside his window. It was beginning to turn cold; back at Heathwick it might even be snowing. So many miles to the south, though, Kris could make do with a heavier blanket and his wool coat draped over the top. He hoped Neil was warm enough; the guards were not as accommodating to Neil, who back-talked the Commandant Masseredo whenever the opportunity presented itself. The rain was a soothing lullaby, but Kris stayed awake for hours, reflecting on the other advice the two sailors had imparted over their months of cohabitation.  Archie was rather glib of tongue, and once he had figured out that Kristopher had no experience whatsoever with physical love he had cheerfully taken it upon himself to explain the finer details, such as how you could position yourselves so as to give pleasure simultaneously with mouths, tongues and fingers.   There were things Kris learned by accident as well: that although Horatio was the senior officer and the taller man, he liked to be on his back for Archie as often as not. It hadn’t occurred to Kristopher before that the roles could change. He had always assumed that one man consistently fulfilled the role traditionally performed by the female.  After his cellmates were released and he was left to his own devices at night, Kristopher continued to learn on his own.

 

    It was about time for another self-taught lesson, he thought, as he rolled over onto his back, calling forth Adam’s image in his mind like it was some dark art. His self-exploration was almost ritualised, prick hardening at his vivid recollection of Adam’s mouth. _What would his lips feel like, wrapped around me?_ He thought of Adam and slid a finger into his mouth, sucking lightly to get it slick.  He undid the buttons of his trousers with his other hand, wriggling to slide out of them, just as he had a night ago – and every night prior since Archie and Horatio had taken their leave of El Ferrol.  He took his half-hard prick in hand and worked it to stiffness, remembering how good it had felt to press himself against Adam’s thigh and feel him respond in turn.  It did not take long for his ministrations to take effect; Kris was soon sighing around his fingers, pretending it was Adam’s cock in his mouth.  His hips twitched at the thought, and Kris slowly lifted a leg, bending his knee till it rested against his chest. He took his dripping fingers from his mouth and pressed them beneath his thigh, pushing slightly at the entrance to his body. It wasn’t enough, just spittle, but it was better than nothing.  Kris tried to relax his muscles against his own invasion, but it was hard not to clench down around the two offending digits.  It was supposed to feel good, and in a way it did, but only because he was busy with his other hand. He exhaled loudly and pressed a little harder. The friction was painful, and it seemed like no matter how wet his fingers were, the moisture wasn’t enough to make the experience pleasurable. Nevertheless, he strained a bit further, till at last he rediscovered the spot within himself he had chanced upon a few days prior.  He groaned, just brushing against it with a fingertip. The head of his prick was slippery now, and he doubled his efforts . His wrist ached, but the rush of his pulse demanded he keep pace with his heart.

 

_It would be so much better if it were you, Adam. If you were inside me._ It was almost like prayer, this thin veil of imagination. He pictured Adam kneeling between his spread legs, smiling and arching an arrogant eyebrow.

 

_Come on, my lad. Almost. Show me how much you learned._ Kris could hear Adam’s voice in his mind, sibilant and alluring. _Open yourself up to me._ Kris stretched his thighs a little further apart, responding as if Adam were there. The movement allowed his fingers to slide further in, ever so slightly, and the sensation was mind numbing.

 

_Like this. He would have me like this. _Kris imagined Adam rising up and pressing into him, cock thick and hard between his thighs. He stroked himself again, thrusting up into his hand as his thoughts ran wild. Every inch of his skin seemed alive and capable of contributing to the dream: the hand inside him was Adam’s prick, the sweat running down his neck was Adam’s tongue, the heavy sleeve of his jacket was Adam’s arm against his chest.  He squeezed his eyes tight, holding on to the hope that soon this would not be idle fantasy and self-abuse. Soon Adam would be with him, and within him, and everything else there was to know would be learned beneath Adam’s gentle hands.  Kristopher bit his tongue hard as his crisis began to overtake him, waves of pleasure cresting over the shore of his body in an unstoppable tide.

 

    The mornings were dreary as autumn finally died and winter overtook the Northwest coast of Spain.  Frost clung to the stones, making Neil’s self-prescribed knee therapy all the more dangerous. Kris lost count of the times that he had prevented Neil from stumbling forward and dashing his brains out on the stone stair. 

 

“Something must be said for your stamina,” Kris said, after catching him round the middle near the top of the staircase.  “You will insist on starting from the beginning, won’t you?”

 

“Of course.  It hardly counts as a success if I fall in the middle, does it?” Neil remarked affably, but his face looked pained.  His commission was a source of great pride for Neil; too well Kris remembered the day they set out from Heathwick. Neil had been so proud in his red uniform, chest puffed out as he kissed his little wife good-bye and exchanged a short whisper with Adam.  He would be coming home a different man, unable to walk without a noticeable limp. 

 

“Bet Katy will wish she had married you instead,” Neil said, evidently reading his mind. He seemed as perceptive as Adam, and Kris wondered if the trait weren’t inherited from some druidic ancestor – the Lamberts certainly had a bit of Scottish blood by their look.  “Me coming home a cripple and all.”

 

“You’re not a cripple,” Kristopher grunted. Neil’s weight was heavy on him as he helped him up to the top of the stair.

 

“Says the man who has to carry me.”

 

“It’s these bloody stairs, and you know it. You walk fine on level ground.” Kris embellished a bit to soothe Neil’s wounded pride. “Katherine will be overjoyed to see you again, and your little one.  Do you think word has gotten to them yet?”

 

“I should hope.  At least they will know we yet live. I don’t think I could bear it if Katherine had moved on, thinking me dead.”

 

“Good God, man! Show a little faith! Besides, you think Adam would let her run off with the gypsies, what with her pregnant with your child?”

 

“Well, no,” Neil admitted, smiling wryly. “But you’re one to talk to me about faith.  Said any prayers recently?”

 

“I have been, actually.” Since his revelation a few weeks prior, he found that his heart was open to the possibility that he could love both his creator and Adam without guilt. Though he was still in prison, he was no longer a captive in the gaol of his own making. The war had tested his faith in God and in Adam both, but it had been the endless waiting in El Ferrol that had given him the time to reconcile his heart.

 

“Thank goodness for small miracles,” Neil teased. “At least one of us will return to England the man he was.”

 

“We’re both better men than we were.”  Kris said simply, helping him up the last stair.   “Think you not?”

 

    Neil hummed low in throat, though if it was from the pain of his leg or the pain of self-reflection Kris could not tell.

 

“I was arrogant before we left home,” he said, turning to face Kris squarely. “I had been left to my own devices at Heathwick so long, managing father’s business while Adam was off in London.  All his old chums would thump me on the back and tell me how clever I was, and before long I came to believe them. I played with your life as if it belonged to me, as if I knew what was best for you. I thought I was helping you, you see. Now-" His voice broke and, for the first time in their acquaintance, Kris saw tears in his eyes. “Now I need you to help me walk up the stairs. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.  You’d be home, happy with Adam if it weren’t for me. Hell, you’d be settled up with Katherine now, expecting your firstborn if it weren’t for me."

 

“Shh.” Kris squeezed his shoulder, letting his arm fall close against Neil’s back.  “You and I have spoken about her before, and you mustn’t continue to let such guilt plague you. As far as Adam and I are concerned...believe it or not, I think some time apart was exactly what I needed, what we both needed, I hope.  We came to each other bound by grief and loss, and now I can return to him as a free man.  Free of shame, free of regret, and free of the fear that I’ll burn in hell for daring to love as I might.  None of that would be possible were it not for you.”

 

“I suppose then it wouldn’t be too much to ask you to keep this quiet, seeing as how you’re so grateful,” Neil sniffled. “Adam will never let me hear the end of it, crying like a woman after I’ve spent many happy hours mocking his dramatics.”

 

“I shan’t breathe a word of it,” Kris vowed, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. It wouldn’t do to have them both crying at the top of a parapet, in clear view of the lookout.  The reputation of the British Army depended on at least one of them keeping a stiff upper lip.

 

    As it was, the lookout was far too busy staring through his glass to notice Neil’s emotional state. Kris trained his eye on the horizon, towards the direction the guard was now signaling to the other look out. In a mere moment, the quiet winter morning exploded into a flurry of activity. The rank and file of the Spanish guard spilled out onto the terrace below, getting ready to arm the shore battery.

 

“Un barco! Un barco Británico, un trientaydos por su mirada,” Kris heard the lookout call down to the lieutenant below.

 

“Extende los cánones largos,” The lieutenant shouted and his men scrambled to obey.

 

“A British ship, a thirty-two gunner. They’re running out the cannons,” Kris translated, horrified that they were about to be on the wrong side of British cannon fire, or worse yet, be on the wrong side of a Spanish victory.

 

“The Indy’s a thirty two. Horatio wouldn’t shut up about her.” Neil thudded Kris on the shoulder, arms flailing madly and excitement evident in his voice.

 

“Shh. I need to hear,” Kris said, smacking Neil’s hands down from where they had flown.

 

“Aspera! Ella esta señalando una tregua. Alguien busca el Don,” The lookout called again.

 

“The ship is signalling truce. They’re sending for Masseredo,” Kris said, the relief he felt overshadowed by excitement that it could perhaps be their transport home.

 

“Puede lucir el nombe?” the lieutenant barked.

 

“Es la Indefatigable. Lieuteniente Hornblower ha regresado.”

 

Neil whooped, not needing Kris to translate for him.

 

“We’re going home, you filthy dagos!” Neil shouted from the parapet, not needing a translation.  “Back to jolly old England!”

 

The smile on Neil’s face was so brilliant that the Spaniards below either didn’t know or didn’t care that Neil was insulting them.  Neil pulled Kris into a tight embrace, and reputation be damned, Kris couldn’t hold back the tears of joy that sprang to his eyes. They were going home.

 

***

 

    ADAM cast a weary eye on his pocket watch before stretching out on the sofa, where he had taken to spending his nights. His servant Kelly, an Irish lass he had hired away from the Ten Bells, thought him a jolly fool, but Adam did not want to risk not hearing a late night knock at the door – and Kelly was a trifle deaf in Adam’s estimation. One couldn’t be sure when the Indefatigable would make her docking, and Adam wouldn’t want Neil and Kristopher to have to spend another moment away from the comforts of a well-appointed home after their ordeal.  He even paid a few urchins ten pence apiece to watch over the dock and run to his address when the Indy came up the Thames. However, he looked on that as more of a charity case than a plan that would yield any result.

 

    In actuality, Adam rarely slept at all. There was so much that could yet go wrong. The Indefatigable could be attacked. They could run afoul of some bad weather. The Spanish Don could demand more money or go back on his word. Archie and Horatio could have played him false, he supposed, before dismissing the notion altogether.  If Kris had confessed to them their circumstances, then surely they were to be trusted.  Archie had been a good lad back in the days of their mutual acquaintance, and Horatio Hornblower looked like the sort of man who would bristle at the slightest impunity of his character. Why, there stood a fair chance that even now he stood on the foredeck, wrinkling his nose because Adam had thought poorly of him for the briefest of moments.  No, if the matter were to be concluded swiftly and without misfire, Adam was sure that he had entrusted the right men. Now the fate of his brother and his would-be lover were left entirely to the fickle hands of lady fate.

 

“Tea and Mr. Bell to see you, Sir,” Kelly said, long skirts swishing as she carried in the morning tea tray and placed it on the table in front of him.  Bradley followed close behind her, and Adam rose immediately and straightened out his rumpled suit.

 

“No need to stand on ceremony, Adam,” Bradley said, swiping a scone from the plate and perching sideways on one of the wing chairs. “It isn’t as though you’re indecent, more’s the pity.”

 

“What brings you by, Bradley?” Adam asked, taking one of the tea cups off the tray. “That’ll be all, Kelly,” he said, dismissing the girl with a wave. She tended to hover a bit more than Adam would like, particularly when Bradley was about, but she was new to the trade.  She bobbed her head and left the room, with a last lingering look at Bell. Adam snorted, nearly spilling his tea. Poor girl.

 

“It’s been two weeks,” Bradley said, dropping two lumps of sugar into his tea and swirling it with his spoon delightedly.  Brad took so much pleasure in the little luxuries of life, Adam had always noticed.  He considered it one of Bradley’s best traits, his ability to see the fantastic where others only saw the mundane.

 

“Nonsense, Bell, we had dinner the day before last.”

 

“Not since you’ve seen me. Since you sent off the bail money with Archie and his Lieutenant. You think I should join the Navy, Lambert?”

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Bradley, they’d string you up for a sodomite faster than they could fly the mainsail.” Adam sipped his tea pensively, smiling at Bradley’s disheartened pout. “And in point of fact, it’s been nineteen days. Well over a fortnight.”

 

“Lots could happen at sea,” Bradley said, choosing his words carefully. “Do you ever wonder how many battles happen that we never even hear about? A ship could be taken, her whole crew, and we might never even know. Word travels so slowly, even in our modern times.”

 

“The thought has crossed my mind in the dismal hours of the morning.  So very nice of you to darken the dawn with them as well.”

 

“Come now,” Bradley said, sweeping his legs to the front. “I merely say this to point out your extreme good fortune. It was a wonder you and Mrs. Lambert received word at all, and that they were able to get letters to you through Kennedy, who just happened to know where your whereabouts might be learned, is nothing short of a miracle. You might have to reconsider your opinion on the good Lord, Lambert. If I weren’t a cynical bastard myself, I’d say He has a soft spot for you.”

 

    Adam did feel strangely blessed, doubly so since he had received a letter from Mrs. Allen, who was most effusive in her thanks and entreated him to stop in Biggleswade on the journey back to Heathwick, whenever they made it.  She had also written a paragraph that had brought tears to his eyes, and he had committed it to memory.

 

_“There are those that would condemn any good news from your hands, Mr. Lambert, but I am not one of them. I told Mr. Allen that this, if anything, was a sign from God that my suspicions were correct, those being that Kristopher has made a most excellent friend in you, and that your mutual affection is a blessing.  It was a great joy to my heart that he nodded and embraced me. He wept, Mr. Lambert, and I tell you this not to embarrass my husband but so that you know that he is grateful as I – both for your assistance in the imminent rescue of our boy and for the comfort that comes in knowing that the life we created in love is treasured by another worthy of it. Above anything else, you are a good man, Mr. Lambert, and you have our undying gratitude.”_

 

“I suppose,” Adam said, smiling softly to himself while remembering her words. It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe in God, but his faith was much less concrete and formal than the Church of England would dictate. In some ways he wished that England would return to its druidic roots. Kristopher leading some heathen ceremony, sky clad and unashamed, would be a religious experience he could fully support.

 

“You wanted to see me today? Something about accompanying you to the tailor?” Brad prompted, interrupting Adam’s perfectly pleasant daydream.

 

“Ah, yes. I thought that perhaps Kristopher and Neil would appreciate a change of clothes when they come home.  Ogden’s has Neil’s measurements on file, but I thought you’d do as a reasonable stand in for Kristopher,” Adam said, wrinkling his brow at the cool look on Bradley’s face.

 

“Are you, in earnest, asking me to enable you to shower your new pet with gifts?” Bradley swung his legs back to the front of the chair, setting his tea down in one fluid, angry motion. 

 

“You couldn’t wait till he gets back to have him measured? Are you that eager to quit London?”

 

“It’s not that, Bradley. I’m simply going dotty waiting and I didn’t think you would object-“

 

“You didn’t think I would mind being fitted for clothes that you’ll be only too keen to peel off of me were it not for the rather unfortunate fact that I’m not your darling Kristopher? Are you daft?” Bradley’s voice was nearing shrill, and Adam crossed the room and knelt by the chair.

 

“Forget I spoke,” Adam said, placing his hand on Bradley’s knee. “I meant no insult, I simply thought it would be a pleasant way to spend time together, as we once did.”

 

“As we once did,” Bradley repeated, eyes falling. “Seems to me that I’ve offered on several occasions to spend time together _as we once did_ and you weren’t so keen on it.”

 

Adam frowned, feeling terrible. In his excitement over having Kristopher home soon he had not paused to consider that Bradley might not be feeling so celebratory.

 

“I’ll get you something as well,” he offered, knowing how much Bradley liked new clothing. To his surprise, Brad rose out of the chair sharply, forcing Adam’s hand from its resting place.

 

“So now you’ll pay me to act in his stead. Why don’t you take me upstairs and complete the charade? I’ll trust you understand that I must be going. I may not be a gentleman, Adam, but I do have my dignity.” Bradley made to leave, but Adam was faster, placing himself between Bradley and the door. 

“You’re a fine one to talk to me about dignity,” Adam chided, his blood rising now. He and Brad had been many things but peaceful had never been one of them.  “You hardly afforded me the courtesy you are asking for now. “

 

“I’ve already made an arse of myself apologising. I threw myself at you on hope of reconciliation, and you wouldn’t have me. I resolved to accept your decision and tried to be a good friend by you, but you would barely give me the time of day. When I met Kennedy, my first thought was to tell him you’d gone to the New World, or to the Devil, anything to keep you here in London and _him _far away, but instead I came to find you, to make you happy. I am capable of many things, Adam, but to ask me to stand idly by while the man I love prepares a life for someone he barely knows – do not ask it of me.” Brad’s voice had gone quiet, and that scared Adam more than when he had been shouting.  He understood how to deal with a violently tempered Bradley Bell; this resigned and bitter creature was something new entirely.

 

“I knew you still cared for me, Bradley, but I had honestly hoped you were content with friendship.  I thought we were to be friends again.  I didn’t realize-“

 

“Of course you didn’t. You’ve been carrying on for weeks now, so excited to have him back to England so that you can whisk him away to Heathwick and quit London entirely.  This isn’t friendship, Adam, this is you filling the time until you get Kristopher back.  I’ve been content with it because having you in my life again was worth the difficulty it caused me, and perhaps because I wanted to believe that if I were here for you, you would come to love me again. I was content, Adam, but then you had to give voice to my worst fears. That I merely fit the measurements of your Kristopher, and as soon as he is back you’ll discard me like an unneeded pattern.”

 

“You have me at a loss, I must confess.  You seem intent on finding injury where I have hidden none.”

 

“I am looking for a heart where it appears you have none,”  Bradley sneered, pulling close to Adam. “What if he never comes home, Lambert?  Will you let me have his new suit?”

 

“I- he’ll make it. They both will. They have to,"  Adam said, trying to sound sure in his convictions though nights of worry proved that he was anything but.

 

“So what if he does? He’s been in Spanish prison – you know what happens to boys in Spanish prison, don’t you? Especially pretty little ones. Is Kristopher pretty, Adam? I’ll bet he is. I’ll wager he won’t want you anywhere near him now.”

 

“He said... his letter said ... Stop it. You’re being cruel,”  Adam protested weakly, unable to repeat the words that he had re-read so many times that he had committed them to memory. They were meant for his eyes only, and to repeat them to Bradley would be a breach of trust.

 

“Make me stop it,” Brad taunted, pushing on Adam’s shoulders. In any other situation, Adam would have laughed, the prospect of Bradley threatening him physically was absurd. But there was a familiar darkness in his eyes, a fire that he recognised from too many nights that began in anger and ended in bed. This was the Bradley he remembered, volatile and persuasive. Adam clenched his jaw, trying to resist temptation, but it was difficult with Bradley so close – again, so close. The man never had any respect for the boundaries of courtesy and Adam had always found the habit exhilarating.

 

“Even if he does want you, will he know what to do with you? With this?” Bradley ran his hand over Adam’s trousers, squeezing the most intimate part of him. Adam gasped at the contact, trying to pull away,  but Brad had backed him against the foyer wall. His body responded involuntarily, long neglected since Adam had been sleeping in the parlour. Brad grinned smugly, and Adam fought twin urges to slap him or kiss him. One or the other would do, perhaps both.  He pressed his hands flat against the wall behind him, pretending they were glued in place and hoping the fancy would keep them still.

 

“Stop,” Adam said again, barely managing to keep his tone below a shout.

 

“If you wanted me to stop you would have stopped me yourself, you do so like to boss me,”

 

Bradley retorted, sliding his hand even lower to rub his thumb over Adam’s balls. It felt familiar, familiar and exciting like the prospect of a favourite meal after a long period of abstinence. 

 

“There’s my man,” Brad growled possessively, pressing his nose beneath Adam’s jaw, where it caught as if it belonged.  Adam bit his lip, warring with his emotions. It had been difficult enough to resist Brad’s advances when they were theoretical – he had clearly revisited his strategy, and this new, direct approach took much more effort to withstand.  Adam had taken it for granted that Kris’s heart would remain unchanged by their many months apart – perhaps his faith would not be repaid.  Perhaps he would be –

 

    Adam’s thoughts were interrupted by the dulcet tones of Kelly singing from the kitchen, as often was her past time in the late morning.  His heart almost stopped beating when he heard her choice of song.

 

_The hills shall fly, my little turtle dove,_   
_The roaring billows burn,_   
_Before my heart shall suffer me to fail,_   
_Or I a traitor turn, my dear,_   
_Or I a traitor turn._

 

    It was one of the songs he had sung most often with Kristopher, and one that he had reflected upon in his many hours of loneliness.  Guilt surged up his spine like the wriggling legs of a millipede. He could not abandon hope, the virtue that had carried him these long months since he and Kristopher had parted company.  He could not give up on Kristopher, not when he seemed so close. He owed it to himself to wait just a little longer to see if Kris would make good on any of the oaths he had so fervently written. Besides, he had promises of his own to keep. He had vowed to be there for Kristopher when he returned from war, and he intended to make good on his word.  Adam shoved Bradley hard, pushing him against the wall opposite.

 

“Does that serve as a pointed enough refusal?” Adam barked. The singing from the other room stopped all of a sudden, and Adam suspected that Kelly had left the first floor to give them more privacy.

 

“You can’t blame a fellow for trying,” Bradley said, clearly unsurprised but more than a little sad. “Take my persistence as a compliment.”

 

“I shall,” Adam said gently. “Please don’t take my refusal as a rejection of your friendship. I hold you, and our time together, in the fondest esteem. Yet Bradley, you must understand, I am not the man I was when we met. Nor are you. We were scarcely more than boys, both of us, but if I really made you happy, you would have never left. I hated you for your decision then, but I trust in it now.  I am certain that if you really thought about it, you’d see it isn’t me you are trying to regain.”

 

“They were good years, those we had together.” Bradley admitted, voice soft. “Sometimes I fear that I’ll never have better.”

 

 “You will. I know you will. Not every man is so great a fool as I, to let you slip away.”

 

Bradley sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

 

“I had to try once more, don’t you see? He’ll be making his way on shore tomorrow and I had to know for sure if what we had was really and truly gone… if you really and truly loved him.”

 

“And is your curiosity sated?” Adam asked, needing to know that this would not happen again. Especially not with Kristopher's return so close at hand.

 

“Yes, at some cost to my vanity,” Bradley said after a moment, and he looked at Adam in silence for a long while, as if finally seeing clearly. “I hadn’t intended such a forceful seduction, but you left me no choice. You did honestly make me angry, using me like his mannequin. That was in poor taste, considering.”

 

“It was. I didn’t think of it, but I suppose you had reason to be upset with me. I do apologise.”

 

“You cannot blame me for trying to use that to my advantage.”

 

“No, no. I suppose I would have done the same, though with less whinging.”

 

“I did not whinge.” Bradley stuck his nose in the air, assuming his famous Cleopatra persona. Bradley tended to shift personalities so many times in a conversation, it was his way of covering up when he was hurt or unsure of himself. This tendency had entranced Adam in his younger years, but now he was exhausted by it.

 

“You did so, you great girl. Give us a squinch,” Adam said, wanting to make amends. After all, it appeared Brad had again been withholding some critical piece of information up his sleeve. He made a mental note to never play whist with him again.

 

“Not until you do me the satisfaction of begging me to tell you exactly what I meant by ‘He’ll be making his way on shore tomorrow.’  I know you’re trying to keep from asking, but it’s clear as the freckles on your face. Darling, that powder doesn’t fool anyone.”

 

“Drat.” Adam felt foolish. He’d been taking to dusting his face with pigmented powder to lessen the appearance of his freckles. “I was hoping to feign indifference until you gave it up of your own volition, but if begging is required, consider yourself thoroughly admonished.“

 

“You’re lucky I love you, Lambert, and that it’s impossible for me to remain cross with you for any length of time,” Bradley said, holding out his arms and squeezing Adam tightly.  “I really should have held out for something besides begging.”

 

“What if I took you shopping for a new suit for you? I reckon Ogden’s would be a decent reward for your assistance and, ah, appropriate in light of my grievous misstep earlier.”

 

“The Indefatigable was passed earlier this morning by a schooner – much faster than a frigate, apparently – and she’ll be making berth tomorrow by all expectation,” Brad spilled, easily lured by the promise of new clothing now that the insult had been forgiven.

 

“How did you hear of all of this? I didn’t know you had Naval connexions,” Adam said, suitably impressed.

 

“I intercepted your little urchin detectives on my way over here. They were only too keen to spill their news after I parted with a ten pence piece.” Bradley grinned broadly. “And Ogden’s would be lovely.”

 

    Adam supposed he should be upset that Bradley had tricked him into paying double for the same information, but really, his heart was too light to quibble over the cost of a suit. Besides, if he discreetly told Mr. Taylor to make three new suits according to Bradley’s measurements for Kristopher, why, Bradley would be none the wiser.

***

_My Darling Kristopher,_

 

_I write to you in haste, knowing that when these words reach your eyes you will be on your way back to me. Yet, it is the first opportunity I have had to write to you unguarded, and so I fear the words will be many to express a sentiment so singular it could be accomplished in but three. _

 

_Thank you so much for your letter – your constancy has been of great comfort to me in my solitude._ _I have been in London for some time, doing what I can to try and expedite your and Neil’s safe return. As I mentioned to Neil in his letter, you need not worry over Katherine. I stopped in Biggleswade on my way to London and sent Mrs. O’Connell north to Heathwick immediately. We have been in touch via letters, and she is doing well. The baby should arrive any day now; I expect Neil will be a father by the time he sets foot on British soil again. Send him my love, and I do hope his injury does not cause him pain. I look forward to seeing him more than I can express._

 

_It was fortunate that I was in London, for it makes your return to me that much faster in coming.  Also, my trip here made it possible for me to meet your family on the way – I thought it polite to introduce myself and to see if they had heard any word from the Army on your whereabouts. They were warm enough, but Kristopher, they had guessed the extent of your feelings for me and so were a bit worried at my intentions towards your person. It was a bit how I imagine you must have felt asking Mr. O’Connell for Katherine’s hand – I was slightly out of my element.  However, they love you till the ends of the earth, and so long as I care for your heart, their love extends to me. You are lucky to have such parents. We are lucky. I only wish you could have met my mother and father.  Oh, we are to stop by on our way back to Heathwick. I trust you would not mind a short stay with them?_ _I promised your mother. _

 

_My love, I cannot begin to tell you how glad my heart is that I am able to write to you as if I will see you soon. I should be asleep; it is half three in the morning, and all I can think about is how in a few short weeks I’ll have you in my arms, and perhaps later, in my bed. In fact I am laying in that bed as I write, thinking of all the scandalous acts I would commit upon your person if I had you._ _I would go into greater detail, my love, but I’d much rather you learned_ _by doing instead of by rote.  Besides, I’d hate to set you aflame when I know you’re on a ship with little or no chance for privacy. I’m not cruel, though the thought of you hard and desperate for me in your uniform is indeed a pleasant one._

 

_Oh, hurry home, beloved. We have long passed the mark where words can sustain us. _

 

_Yours,_

 

_Adam_

 

    KRIS trembled as he read Adam’s words for what seemed like the hundredth time during their relatively smooth voyage from El Ferrol.  It had been a lark to see Horatio and Archie again, though they were scarcely as openly loving as they had been behind bars.  Yet, Kris could still see the connection – the shared glances, the lingering touches, hundreds of little ways that spoke of their affection far more articulately than words could.  So it would be soon for he and Adam – words would no longer be their only means of expression.  In truth, Kristopher was nervous – he had only confessed his feelings aloud due to his imminent departure and the desperation that had sprung from fear of an early death.  It was easier to express himself in a letter, and he felt almost shy now, knowing that he would soon see Adam face to face.

 

    He looked in the glass that hung on the wall of the Captain’s cabin – Pellew had graciously given his room to Neil and Kristopher as they were returning from captivity. Kris was glad to hear that he had given Kennedy and Hornblower additional leave in London, since they had cut their original plan short to accommodate the run back to Spain. He scarcely recognized the face staring back at him. He had lost weight in Spain, which was to be expected, he supposed. He hadn’t shaved his face in weeks – the razors were too dull to do very much good, and his hair had grown so long he had tied it into a low queue and knotted fabric around it like a sailor. Would Adam still want him like this?

 

    Kristopher folded the letter back up and tucked it into his breast pocket alongside its sister – the reply Kris had written as soon as he had a free moment aboard. It felt foolish to write a letter he would never send, but he thought Adam would appreciate them at any rate, especially since he found himself apprehensive of their first meeting. Perhaps his letter could illustrate his feelings for him.  

 

“Are you ready?” Neil asked, entering the little room. “Kennedy said that the shore boat is departing presently.”

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I’d wager. Do you have the address?”

 

“I should think I’d know where my brother’s flat is,” Neil retorted, something of his old self at long last.

 

“I suppose you would. Just being prepared,” Kris said, looking around the cabin for any forgotten items before realising that he had only his clothing and his letters.

 

“You’re nervous,” Neil surmised, closing the door tight behind him. “After all this time, I should have thought you’d be swimming to get to shore faster.”

 

“What if he’s changed his mind?” Kris said all of a sudden, wringing his hands. “Kennedy said Bradley was with him. What if Bradley’s taken him back.”

 

“You would think he would have mentioned that in his letter,” Neil pointed out. “Though I suppose anything is possible. You’re right, my brother is exactly the sort that would decide he had waited long enough, thank you kindly, and shove his prick into the nearest willing mouth.”

“He is not!” Kristopher furrowed his brows, irate that Neil would make such accusations. _Of all the horrible things to say._

 

“Well, don’t be cross with me. You’re the one doubting him.” Neil took a quick step and clasped Kris on the shoulder.  Kris laughed – he was right, of course, as he often was, and had goaded Kris into defending Adam’s character from his own assault.

 

“Forgive me.”

 

“You’ve every right to be nervous. You’re practically a blushing bride.” Neil laughed with him, pulling him into a short hug.

 

“Such words don’t exactly engender me with any more confidence,” Kris protested.

 

Neil thought a moment and opened his mouth a few times, as if struggling for the correct phrasing – for once at a loss for words.

 

“Then perhaps these shall.” Neil paused again, as though it cost him a good deal of mannish pride to continue. “My dearest wish is that you could somehow be married, so that you would be my brother in name as well as in my heart.”

 

Kris swallowed hard and Neil pulled him close again, allowing him to have a bit of a cry without any further embarrassment. It was some comfort to him that he heard Neil sniffle a bit too.

 

“We’re home,” Kris whispered, and they were, at last.

 

    After bidding Archie a fond farewell, Kristopher and Neil set out in the shore boat, accompanied by Horatio and his division. It was a short row, but Kris fidgeted the entire way. In fact, he volunteered to take over rowing for one of the sailors, and a man called Styles had taken him up on the offer before Horatio noticed and put a stop to it.

 

“We won’t get there any faster with your scrawny arse behind the oars,” Neil told him. After another long minute, Horatio kindly offered to teach him how to use the rudder, evidently hoping to keep his mind off the passing of time.  Kristopher agreed, ignoring the muffled laughter from Neil who had evidently found Hornblower’s offer amusing in some capacity.  It was only when he had the thick piece of wood in hand that he realised the double entendre.

 

“Oh he didn’t!”

 

    Neil’s words interrupted Kris’s concentration, and the boat gave a little jerk starboard, earning him a stern look from Horatio. Kristopher handed the rudder back to Horatio and joined Neil in the fore portion of the boat to see what the fuss was about. Kris had been busy aiming the nose of the boat towards the shore, so much so that he had not bothered to look on the dock, and when he did his breath caught in his throat.

 

    It was Adam, of course, standing on the dock in the midmorning fog. His suit coat was a light gray, almost the same colour as the sky. His top hat covered his hair, all but for a few inches that curled softly about the nape of his neck.  He looked like an apparition, like a part of the haze itself, as he stood unmoving, tightly clutching his cane. Kris wanted to call out to him, but his voice didn’t seem to work properly.

 

“The bloody fool,” Neil hissed, snapping Kristopher back to attention. “He couldn’t have waited until we were somewhere in private?”

 

    Kris realized the cause for his alarm – they were in the midst of a military escort and could not act freely.  In fact, anything more than the briefest clasping of hands would seem inappropriate.  His heart was racing, and though his head cautioned him against it, he feared that his limbs would act of their own accord.

 

    The boat thudded against the dock, and Styles tied the lead tight to the post before turning and offering a hand to Kristopher.  Kris was about to accept it when Neil lurched in front of him and grabbed it instead, propelling himself into the dock with alacrity that Kris was surprised he still possessed, given his injured leg.

 

“Brother,” Neil cried, pulling Adam to him in a tight embrace. Adam clung to him, a few inches taller than his younger sibling. He must have returned Neil’s greeting, but Kristopher couldn’t hear the words that fell from his lips over the cockney braying of Styles, who was telling him to get a move on.

 

    Kris locked eyes with Adam over Neil’s shoulder, feeling as though he might faint and wishing for all the world that he had borrowed a razor aboard the Indy, or had asked Archie to cut his hair, or that he had bothered to wash his uniform on make and mend day.

 

“It’s good to see you looking so well, Mr. Allen. The dagos weren’t too severe on you, I hope?”

 

    Adam’s words were oddly formal, but his eyes were conveying a different message altogether.  They washed away any lingering doubts that Adam cared for him still.

 

“Not as such, dear Mr. Lambert, though I admit I am thankful to the almighty for delivering us safely home.  I was never much for London, but I swear I have never seen a more beautiful sight than this dock.” Kris replied, and Adam merely goggled at him, evidently content to stare happily for the balance of the morning.

 

“Well, as loathe as I am to separate you from the dock, I think we should be off,” Neil said, taking charge of the situation. “Lieutenant Hornblower, thank you so much for your kindness. If you are ever in North Gate, do pay us a visit at Heathwick.”

 

“Yes, do!” Adam said, remembering his manners at last. “My best to Mr. Midshipman Kennedy and my compliments to your Captain.”

 

“We shall be in London for a few weeks,” Horatio said, bowing slightly. “If it pleases you Kennedy and I will pay you a visit - unless you’ll be off for home presently.”

 

Kris looked at Adam and Neil, who exchanged glances – and seemingly, an entire conversation.

“Neil will be off as soon as he might, to see Katherine.  I promised to accompany Mr. Allen to his hometown before taking him north to see the Bishop. However, I do have some business in London to attend to. You wouldn’t mind delaying our departure, Mr. Allen?”

 

“Ah, no. That would be amenable. I’d rather fancy a few days spent not moving at all. The sea, you know. It moves quite a bit,” Kris said, stumbling over his words as Adam turned to look at him.

 

“That it does,” Hornblower agreed, and Kris couldn’t be sure, but he believed Horatio suppressed a laugh. Clearly his facade was crumbling.

 

“I should report to Command that I’m back on English soil,” Neil said. “I’ll see you at your flat, Adam. Did you want to accompany me, Allen?” Neil asked, amusement in his voice.

 

“Ah, if it’s all the same I think I’ve seen enough of you these past months, Captain.  I, ah. Would you be so kind as to show me to an Inn, Mr. Lambert?” Kris had taken it for granted that he’d be staying with Adam but thought he had better make a show of asking for propriety’s sake. However, this bit of social grace was evidently too much for Neil, who burst into laughter and slapped Kristopher on the shoulder.

 

“But you’ll be staying with us, of course. Unless Adam objects?”

 

    Even Horatio was stifling a giggle now, but he struggled to regain his customary gravitas so that the Lieutenant in charge of the port didn’t grow suspicious.

 

“We certainly have enough room.  Shall we?” Adam bowed slightly to Horatio, who bowed back to Adam but saluted Neil and Kristopher. Kris was touched by the gesture and returned the salute as best he could.  Neil stayed with them a short while, chatting with Adam while Kris hung back. He could tell that Neil was doing his best to walk normally and that it pained him to do so but not nearly as much as asking for a slower pace would have wounded his pride.  Before long, their paths diverged, and Adam turned West while Neil continued to head North. 

 

     All at once, Kristopher found himself alone in Adam’s company. Kris picked up his pace to walk along side Adam rather than just behind him and was disturbed by Adam’s expression. His eyes were downcast, face a mask of stern concentration.  Kris didn’t want to interrupt whatever serious turn his mind had taken, so he contented himself with looking around the lower West End of London. It was a charming neighbourhood full of older homes and shops. In fact, you could still see the scorched foundations from the fire two hundred years prior if you chanced to glance down one of the alleys that ran perpendicular to the main street every so often.  It was down one of those alleys that Kristopher found himself being manoeuvred, and before Kristopher could quite comprehend what had happened, Adam had him against the brick wall of a bakery.

 

“I’m sorry,” Adam mumbled mere seconds before pressing his mouth against Kris’s, which was hanging slightly agape in surprise. Kris tried to ask what for, he really did, but it was far better to absolve Adam of whatever sin he had committed in return for such sweet penance as this: the slow but relentless assault of his mouth.  It was an exercise in opposites – the softness of Adam’s lips versus the hard scrape of the brick wall at the back of his neck.  It seemed to Kristopher as though he could identify each individual nerve in his body, each one aflame with months of unanswered prayers coming to fruition at once.  Adam broke the kiss with a gasp, just as Kris had begun to feel a warm, hard pressure low on his stomach.  Adam leaned his forehead against Kris’s, eyes lightly closed.

 

“I couldn’t hold out any longer. I thought I would literally die if I didn’t kiss you right then,” Adam explained, breath visible in the cold London air.

 

“I thought you were upset. You looked upset,” Kris said, his vocal chords at last working properly again. “I was worried you had changed your mind, seeing me again. I thought perhaps I didn’t please-“

 

    Kristopher’s words were swallowed up by Adam’s mouth again, and he moaned softly into the kiss as Adam ran his hands down Kristopher’s sides to rest possessively against the curve of his arse.  Kris could feel Adam swell, pressing hard against him.

 

“Believe me, you please. It took every bit of my not inconsiderable self control to make it this far.” Adam let out a breathy laugh. “As if I could ever stop wanting you. I’ve been worried that you’d come to your senses on the way home and realized I’m not worth the trouble.”

 

“Bloody fool,” Kris cursed, pulling Adam even closer. “Look at me, I’m filthy, I haven’t shaved, my hair’s gone long – “

 

“Nonsense. You’re here, that’s enough for me.”

 

“Is it? ‘Cause this isn’t enough for me, not by half. Where’s this bed you wrote so fondly of?” Kris asked, and Adam groaned, pressing more than a few kisses to his neck before pulling away entirely.

 

“If you’d let me calm down enough to walk down the street I’ll show you.” Adam laughed, the sound drowned out by the bells of St. Paul's chiming out nine o’clock.

 

    They walked the rest of the way in silence, except for the fits of laughter that broke free any time they made eye contact. Kristopher wasn’t sure why he had been so nervous – it felt as though no time had elapsed since they last saw each other, and yet between each brush of their shoulders, ages of the earth passed by.

 

***

 

    ADAM tried not to race home though his feet kept wanting to keep pace with his heartbeat. Kris didn’t seem to mind, though he was almost jogging.  Adam guessed that they looked like two men very much in need of the w.c., clipping along at a hurried but still dignified walk. They soon reached the front steps, and Adam smiled to himself proudly as Kris swept his eyes over the flat in admiration.  Though Heathwick was far grander, Adam’s city flat was the first place he had ever made his own.  It was not just a flat - it was an aspect of his life he had honestly never expected Kris to see and a part of himself that he thought had died along with his relationship with Bradley.

 

“I gave the maid the day off,”  Adam said, hands shaking as he slid the key into the lock and opened the door. “If you need anything, I can get it for you. Are you thirsty? Hungry? Ahhh!”

 

    Adam yelped as Kris grabbed him from behind, spun him around, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, Adam found himself being forced against the wall of his own foyer by a man much smaller in stature.  This time, however, he was far less opposed to the manoeuvre.  Adam thought he was going in for a kiss, but at the last moment, Kris buried his face against Adam’s chest and clung to his lapels, shoulders shaking. Adam put his arms around Kristopher and held him, kissing the top of his head gently.

 

“I’m really here.”  Kris’s voice was muffled by Adam’s shirt, but his tone was clearly disbelieving.  “I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and be back in my cell. I still feel like a prisoner of war. I still _look_ like one.”

    Inspiration struck Adam, and he pushed Kris gently on his shoulders to give him some room to work. Kris’s face was a little wet, the tears making little trails through the weeks of grime that was all over his skin.

 

“I can fix that,” he assured Kris, and his fingers went to work on the knot at Kristopher’s neck. It was tough work, loosening the stock that had been soaked with sea spray and rainwater, but it at last came free, revealing Kris’s bare neck.  It didn’t matter that he was filthy; Adam kissed him just the same, painting a little arc from Kris’s collarbone to his ear, where he nipped a little, playfully. Kristopher hummed in satisfaction, low in his throat, and Adam could feel the sound vibrate beneath the skin.  He pushed off Kris’s red greatcoat, letting it fall idly on the floor.  It looked fine on him still, but Adam knew that Kris needed to be rid of it.

 

“Just as well I gave the maid a day off, she’d be in here scolding me,”  Adam said, taking Kristopher’s hand and leading him towards the bathroom.  Of all the rooms in the house, Adam was most pleased with the bathroom, as it employed the most modern plumbing available at the time of the renovation. It also had a fireplace, which was heavenly on cold winter mornings.  Before leaving for her unexpected day off, Kelly had thoughtfully lit a fire, knowing how Adam loved his morning bath.

 

“Come here,” Adam said, turning the tap.  “The water should be luke-warm, but I’ll warm a bit over the fire.”

 

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” Kristopher protested, but Adam hushed him and motioned for him to take off his shoes. A warm bath was the least of the comforts he couldn’t wait to bestow upon his long-absent Kristopher – and really, it was the patriotic thing to do for someone only so recently returned from a stay in an enemy prison. Adam hung a full bucket of water on the hook above the fireplace and stoked the fire so that it burned a little hotter.  He felt Kris wrap his arms around his waist from behind, and Adam grinned to himself. It seemed as though Kristopher didn’t want another moment apart, even if apart was only a few feet.

 

“Hello, you,” Adam teased, cupping a palm full of water and splashing it up at Kris’s hair. “Can I finish my noble work?”

 

“Please do,” Kristopher said, standing clear and holding his arms out to the side obligingly.

Adam untied the front of Kris’s shirt and tugged it over his head, biting his own lip in an effort to maintain control. Kris’s chest was toned from months of nothing to do but exercise, and Adam ran his hand along his smooth stomach, teasing his hand along the waistband of Kris’s breeches.  Adam gripped the drop front tightly between his thumb and forefinger and began to unbutton the closures, sliding the hard, polished pewter though the ragged white wool.  Gravity did its work, the front falling open to reveal Kristopher’s waiting prick, already hard in anticipation.

 

“No smalls?” Adam quirked an eyebrow at this unexpected habit, raising his gaze from Kris’s length to his face. Kris was flushed, though from his partial nudity or Adam’s remark, Adam couldn’t say.

 

“Wore through them, I’m afraid,” he admitted sheepishly, and Adam chuckled low in his throat as he undid the centre clasp that held the breeches snug over Kris’s hips.

 

“At least you have an excuse,” Adam whispered in Kristopher’s ear, making him open his mouth in surprise. Not one to waste an opportunity, Adam took advantage of the expression and claimed that sweet mouth with his own.  Kris kissed like Adam imagined he prayed, earnestly and fervently and with just the right amount of reverence for the act. The feel of Kris’s bottom lip, full and firm against his teeth was too much a temptation to resist, and Adam bit down gently, dragging his incisor against it and making Kris groan. Adam licked it smooth and then slid his tongue into Kristopher’s mouth like a Parisian. If the bloody French were good for anything it was designing waistcoats and kissing. And wine. Alright, the French were good for a fair few things, Adam thought, but none of them made up for the fact that their blasted war had kept Kristopher in Spain.

 

    Adam supposed that it was strange, when kissing the object of one’s most desperate desires, to suddenly remember their mother and father but remember them he did. He mused later that it must have been the shape of Kris’s nose, so like his mother’s, which brought them to mind.

 

_“Just promise me you and Kristopher will carefully consider the future before you rush headlong into any arrangement you are unwilling to withstand,” _Mr. Allen had said, and Adam had promised. He was nothing if not a man of his word, and yet as he pulled back from the kiss his heart found the way forward. The only way truly open to him, so enthralled was he of the man who stood, naked but for his stockings, before him.

 

“What is it?” Kris asked, sensing that Adam’s imperatives had changed somewhat. “Am I... do I not satisfy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. Adam couldn’t bear the expression on his beloved’s face, and he pulled Kris close, not wanting him to doubt the intensity of his affection and desire.

 

“Certain sure, you do and you will continue to. It’s just that...I promised that I would...Kristopher, what I mean to say is that, should it be in my power you shall never suffer another day of hardship.  If you would have me, I would never part with you again. I pledge to you my love, my devotion, for the remaining days of my life, and even thereafter should God choose to grace this poor sinner with such blessings as He sees fit to give me now.“

 

    Kris moved back a pace and stared at him with wide-open eyes. He seemed to process Adam’s words like wine swirling in a glass, regarding them carefully. When he finally spoke, he grinned and his nose crinkled up the way it always did when he was happy.

 

“You saw me starkers and now you believe in God?”  he asked incredulously, and Adam couldn’t help but laugh with him. Of course that’s what he’d take from his emotional speech.

 

“Maybe not as you do, but as much as I always have.  Your presence here is enough proof that something out there loves me,” Adam explained, shoulders shaking.

 

“You’re a regular Thomas Aquinas,” Kristopher accused, slipping out of his stockings. “Better not let the Pope hear you, or he’ll be trying to canonise you.”

 

“If the Pope has spies in my bathroom, I’d say he’s paying a bit too much attention to what the Church of England gets up to,” Adam joked, setting Kris off again. Hearing Kristopher’s raucous laughter made him reconsider his words and realise his unintentional word-play. “No! I didn’t mean it that way. Good Lord, what have those sailors taught you? You’re twice as ribald as when you left.”

 

“Oh, they told me a tale or two,” Kris said, his eyes turning dark with desire. “But if you want to hear them, you’ll have to finish drawing my bath.” He tilted his head towards the fire, where the bucket of bathwater was now boiling.  Adam wrapped a towel round his hand and lifted it, pouring it carefully into the nearly-full tub.  Kris tested the water with his hand and sighed happily at the temperature.

 

“I hate baths, I’ll have you know,” he said, sliding into the water. “But after sharing a cold tub of water with two other men for months on end, this is heaven.”

 

“Dearest, let your hair down,” Adam instructed, and Kris obligingly unwrapped the fabric from around his queue. His nut-brown hair hung in matted waves, and Adam pulled a stool so that he could wash it.

 

“I rather thought you’d get in with me,” Kris stated simply, and Adam cursed himself a fool. That was a much better plan. Perhaps Kristopher had picked up the fundamentals of strategy in the service.  He circled round to the foot of the tub, thinking how much he had enjoyed seeing Kristopher without the trappings of his uniform.  Besides, it was about time he saw what he had gotten himself in to.

 

Adam pulled off his cranberry coloured cravat first, exposing his throat to Kristopher, who watched with heat in his eyes.

 

“Coat please.” 

 

    Adam shrugged off his tailcoat, tossing it on the floor as if it were nothing more than a rag. Without being asked, he took off  his waistcoat and shirt, standing bare-chested in the firelight. With the heavy curtains obscuring what little light came through the windows, it might as well have been evening.

 

“The rest,” Kristopher whispered, and Adam felt himself stiffen again at the desperation in Kristopher’s voice. He’d clearly done some thinking in the months they had been parted. Gone was the self-loathing inherent in the last time he had asked for what he wanted. Gone was the fear that had haunted his eyes. Kristopher had emerged from the hell of war and the purgatory of prison a new man, a man ready to be loved fully. Though they had not discussed the future at length, Adam could not, in good conscience keep him waiting any longer. After all, he had made promises to Kristopher, too. 

    He removed his boots, laying them gently on the raised hearth and then undid his own pantaloons, tugging them off sharply as they were fitted in the new fashion, tight against the lower calf. Kris had almost closed his eyes, and Adam noticed one hand had disappeared beneath the water.

 

“Am I to your liking?” he had to ask, voice low and cautious. Kris nodded softly and motioned for Adam to come closer with his free hand.  Adam did as he was asked, swinging his leg over the edge of the tub and sliding all the way in next to Kristopher in one fluid motion. It felt wonderful, their bodies in close proximity beneath the hot water.  They kissed, Adam unable to discern who initiated the gesture but finding it hardly mattered. Their mouths worked in blessed tandem, as though made to compliment only each other’s motions. Adam thrilled when Kris experimented with his tongue, sliding it into Adam’s mouth and meeting up with his own.  He was a quick study and repeated the gesture when he noticed Adam liked it.

 

“Business first,” Adam reprimanded, breaking the kiss and rubbing his nose against Kris’s, who grumbled in protest but dunked beneath the water to wet his hair. When he popped back up, Adam was ready with lathered hands. Adam manoeuvred so that his back was against the high part of the slipper tub, and Kris moved between his legs, facing away from him so that Adam could work the soap into his scalp.  The gentle rocking motion of Kris’s body as Adam scrubbed was torture against his aching prick, which didn’t really understand the need for all this cleanliness.  Kris leaned forward to rinse out his hair, bringing his arse hard up against Adam’s length, and suddenly Adam couldn’t fathom the sense in cleanliness either.

 

***

 

    KRIS snapped his head out of the water and tossed his hair backwards, arching his back _just so._ He could feel Adam’s arousal slide against the meeting of his thighs and he felt a fiery longing coil up in the pit of his stomach. The outside world seemed as far away as El Ferrol, for Kristopher there was only Adam, as though the span of his experience had contracted down to this porcelain tub and the man occupying it with him. Adam’s hands were on his hips, so Kristopher leaned back, allowing Adam to situate him on his lap. It was comfortable, lying against Adam’s chest rather than the high back of the tub, and Kris turned his head so that Adam could kiss him.  He closed his eyes, awash in the sensation of Adam’s mouth against his, his tongue pushing between Kris’s teeth like it was searching out its mate. Kris loved the feel of Adam’s tongue against his own; it was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation.  It was almost silly how something so simple could feel so good. Adam’s hands wrapped around his chest, travelling slowly across the expanse. Kristopher was all of a sudden jealous, in this position he couldn’t touch Adam at all. He stretched a hand backwards and ran it along the side of Adam’s face as they kissed, tracing the fine line of his jaw with dripping fingers.  Adam opened his mouth a bit wider, and Kris pressed the advantage, emboldened by how his simple touch had made Adam react.  He felt Adam’s prick twitch against the back of his legs, and Kris worried for his comfort. It couldn’t be helped in this position, unless...

 

    Kris shifted his weight back a little bit and parted his thighs, allowing Adam’s length to come between them.  Adam’s responding groan sent a shudder through Kris’s body.  For his part, Kris felt sure that his sole purpose in life was to make Adam sound like that, just on the right side of desperate.  He squeezed his thighs together tightly, sighing at the way Adam’s prick felt between them.

 

“Kristopher.” Adam’s voice was strained, and Kris felt more than heard his name on Adam’s lips. It felt like it belonged there.  Adam’s hips pressed up slightly, and Kris pressed down with his heels to allow Adam to move a little more freely. In return, Adam ran one of his hands lower and lower, till at last it was wrapped around his prick. Adam was thrusting hard between his thighs now, matching his thrusts with strokes. Kris felt weightless in the water, allowing Adam to manoeuvre them both to his will. The reward was great, though it felt unfamiliar to have someone else bringing him pleasure after all his experimentation. It was a bit like being on a ship without any idea of where it was going, he thought abstractly as Adam nipped gently at his neck, only the feel of the wind for indication of direction.

 

“Kris, Kris, oh my love,” Adam panted in his ear, the words hot and wet and nearly lost in the sound of thighs and hands busy in the water. “Want to be inside you so very badly. I need you-“

 

“You can have me,” Kris whispered back, pressing his mouth against Adam’s and squeezing his legs together extra tight so that Adam moaned beneath him. “Any way you want me. I’m ready, made myself ready for you.” The movement of Adam’s hand on his cock made coherent speech difficult, but Adam seemed to understand.

 

“Up,” Adam instructed, and the two of them rose, somewhat ungainly from their position.  Kris turned to face Adam and pulled his head down for another kiss. Adam’s body felt spectacular against his, all slick heat wrapped around him. Their difference in height bothered Kris for the first time, and he stood on his toes so that more of his cock rubbed against Adam’s. Adam ran a hand down his back, dripping water as he did so, and slid his fingers in the cleft of Kris’s arse. Kris sighed contentedly and kissed Adam’s collar bone, relaxing against Adam’s fingers as they skimmed against his entrance.

 

“Are you certain?” Adam asked, pulling Kris out of his reverie.  “Here and now?”

 

“I haven’t the will to wait any longer, been wanting you so long already. Show me how, Adam.” Kris blushed to hear himself beg, but couldn’t keep himself from wanting it.  Adam caught his chin and looked at him, his blue eyes alive with the reflection of the fire.  “Please,” Kris whispered, and Adam smiled, running his thumb over Kris’s lips. Kris mouthed the rough pad of his finger, skimming his teeth across it to show that he wasn’t afraid of a little bit of rough.  There would be time enough for sentiment later; his body had needs that had long been neglected.

 

“Stay here,” Adam murmured, getting out of the tub and going to a cabinet.  He returned with a large, mostly full bottle of amber coloured, viscous fluid.

 

“Bath oil,” Adam explained “is what it’s called at the shop, but everyone knows what it’s really for." He got back into the tub and poured a generous amount of the oil on his hands.

“Better than tallow, I’d wager,” Kristopher said, never really having grasped how candle wax would have helped, no matter what Archie had said about it.

“Tallow? Where did you... never mind, darling. You won’t ever have a candle anywhere near...well not unless you want.  Some lads swear by them, how smooth they are and how they go a bit soft after awhile.“ Adam stroked himself with his lubricated hand, closing his eyes tight in pleasure.  “Me personally, if I’m taking something up the arse I want it hard till it’s done its job," he whispered conspiratorially.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Kris agreed, stepping forward. He couldn’t help himself. He swatted Adam’s hand out of the way and replaced it with his own, working the stiff flesh up and down and loving the feel of Adam beneath his hand. Adam was thicker round than he, and a bit longer too, but that made sense given the rest of him. Kris thought it was lovely and that Adam was even more beautiful like this, eyes half closed and mouth slightly open as Kris stroked him.

 

“Turn around,” Adam said gently after luxuriating under Kris’s touch for a moment longer.  “So hard for you.” Kris did as he was told, comprehending how Adam meant to have him. “It’s easiest this way at first,” Adam assured him, running a slick hand up and down his spine, “but there are so many other ways. We’ll keep trying till we find your favourite.” Adam pressed his entire body against Kris’s back, running his hand slowly over Kris’s prick. Kris couldn’t speak, he felt dizzy with the temerity of the moment.  After all these months, he would finally be possessed in body the by the man that had so possessed his heart.  Kris felt a bit of pressure on his upper back, and he bent forward and gripped the top of the slipper tub.  It was a comfortable angle, and he heard Adam sigh above him so he figured he must have done the right thing. 

 

     Being turned around made him blind to what was happening, however, so when Adam licked him between his legs he was caught entirely off guard. It felt strange at first, and Kris had to fight from crying out in protest from sheer embarrassment, but he was at least freshly washed.  Besides, Adam pressed a little harder with his tongue, and Kris couldn’t help but spread his legs a little wider, making Adam chuckle a little.

 

“So eager,” Adam said, and ran his oil-slicked fingers against Kris’s hole.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I mustn’t keep you waiting any longer.” 

 

    Kris gasped as Adam pressed a few fingers inside him – Kris couldn’t really tell how many, just that it was more than one.  It felt tight at first, but still worlds better than his own attempts at penetration.  The oil did a lot to relax him, and Adam pushed a little deeper, sensing that Kris was ready to move on.

 

_There._

 

    Kristopher didn’t know if he had spoken the word aloud, but Adam seemed to know anyway, wriggling his fingertips against the spot Kris had discovered inside himself on a few occasions.  All of a sudden it wasn’t enough – Adam’s fingers didn’t fill him, didn’t do anything to ease the dull ache that was throbbing at his core.

“Fuck me,” Kris cried, tongue tripping on the unfamiliar phrase. “Adam, take me. Take me please.”

 

    The pressure of Adam’s fingers was gone in an instant and replaced by something much larger. Where Adam’s fingers had been probing and tentative, his prick was relentless when it pressed against Kris’s entrance. It was too large, but it mattered not. Kristopher would rather wreck himself utterly than go another minute as two separate beings.  He clung to the rim of the tub tightly, trying to focus on the cool porcelain rather than the searing pain.

 

“Here you go, my love.”  Adam’s voice was gentle and honeyed, and it was music in Kris’s ears. “Just how you wanted. Come on , Kris. Take it for me. Open up for me.” Kristopher couldn’t help but respond to Adam’s plea, pressing himself back on Adam’s prick. It felt solid inside him, and he could feel his body respond to the invasion, stretching to accommodate Adam’s length. 

 

“Oh, that’s it” Adam continued to encourage. “God, Kristopher, you’re perfect.”  Kris continued to push back, eager for Adam to be completely inside. The head of his prick connected at last with that magical point, and the pain ebbed away, leaving only white-hot pleasure in its wake.

 

***

 

    IT WAS perfect.  Adam could barely keep himself restrained; from the moment Kris had presented himself he had fought the urge to take him in one smooth thrust.  But he was glad he had managed to hold out, for nothing could top the feel of Kristopher working himself back till his arse was flush against Adam’s body.  Kris groaned deeply then, and Adam could feel the sound ringing through his body.  He gripped Kris’s hips tightly and pulled all the way out, letting out his breath with a sharp hiss. Kris whimpered, and Adam pressed into him again, relishing every inch of the journey as though it was his own virginity, and not Kris’s, that was being shed.

 

“Yes, Adam,” Kris panted beneath him, and Adam thrust a little harder in response. They fell into a rough rhythm, Adam allowing his pace to be set by the little moans and grunts that escaped his lover’s mouth. It was impossible, how gorgeous he looked, spread out and eager. The tan of his skin contrasted with the porcelain, and Adam felt for a moment that he was making love to a work of art, for no living man should be so flawless. His skin seemed to glow in the firelight, the little droplets of water running faster and faster down Kris’s back as Adam fucked into him harder.

 

_I shall be his only lover,_ Adam vowed to himself, rolling his head back. _He’s like this for me, just for me, and forever._

 

     Adam chased his pleasure like a hound set loose after a fox, Kris’s body a vast forest to explore.  Adam snaked a hand beneath Kris and grasped a hold of him, stroking in time to the fast pace their bodies had set.  Kris cried out in appreciation, raising his arse and arching his back just a little bit higher so Adam could have at him a little more deeply.  He looked back over his shoulder, and Adam lost himself in the brief second their eyes connected.  He sailed over the brink of his crisis, spilling deep inside his lover, who was still hard in his hands.

 

“So close, Adam,” Kris gasped, sounding beyond desperate.  “Just a little more.”

    Adam stroked him faster, staying inside his tight arse and thrusting as much as he could, though his thighs shook from the effort and the mind-numbing sensation of the over stimulated flesh.  He pulled out, not being able to withstand any more, and tugged Kris up and around even as he sank to his knees.

 

    Kris had begged Adam so many months ago to let him get on his knees, and Adam was happy to turn the request around. He stretched his mouth around Kris’s rosy prick, letting his tongue go slack as Kris thrust into his mouth.  Kris groaned above him, and Adam slid his fingers back inside Kris’s stretched hole, reaching the spot inside him that would send him over the edge.

 

“Yes, I need it Adam. I need your fingers there. Oh, just there. Ye..oh _God_ your mouth. _Adam.”_ Kris came and Adam swallowed him down, loving the salty-sweet taste on his tongue. Kris gripped Adam’s shoulders just before his knees buckled entirely, and he sank back into the now-tepid water.

 

    Adam woke many hours later to a gentle knocking on his door. He dislodged himself from the still-sleeping Kristopher, who grumbled at the disturbance and burrowed further beneath the blankets.

 

Donning his dressing gown, he opened his bed chamber door to see his brother, looking rather embarrassed.

 

“I, ah, I let myself in through the rear window. You weren’t answering at the front door.”

 

“Gracious, Neil. I’m sorry, we were just-“

 

“That’s enough, thank you.  Sorry to have disturbed you, but I wanted to let you know I was here and that this had fallen from Kristopher’s uniform coat downstairs. I thought you should have it before your help found it.” Neil offered Adam a folded piece of paper. “I didn’t read it, but I know what it is. He wrote it to you on our way home. He told me. We are in close confidence, you see. Natural, I suppose.” Neil seemed embarrassed to admit to his brother that he and Kristopher were friends now, though Adam couldn’t really fathom a guess as to why. “I swear Adam, if you hurt him I’ll bloody you myself.”

 

“Well, thanks for your faith, _brother,_” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “I suppose you made the same threat to him?”

 

“More than once, though we both know that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have it in him.”

 

“And I do?” Adam asked, more than a little miffed. “I’m beginning to wish I had left you in Spain.”

 

“Come off it, Adam.  Kennedy said that you turned up at the Ten Bells with Bradley, and that he knew you were in town and just where to find you. I hoped...I hope that’s all there is to it.”

 

“That’s all there is. Despite Bradley’s efforts to the contrary. I’ve been good, Neil. Please don’t believe the worst of me. Not now.  Not when I’ve only just begun to feel whole again,” Adam pleaded, keeping his voice low.

 

“Bradley offered himself to you?” Neil asked “And you refused?”

 

“Of course I refused. I didn’t know what had happened to either of you, did I? I’m not...were you a stranger I’d duel you for the affront to my honour. “

 

“But since I’m your brother you’ll endure the insult and instead thank me for seeing Kristopher home safe?” Neil said, quirking a smile. “Though if truth be told, he had more to do with my safety than I his.”

 

Adam pulled him into a quick hug, careful not to crumple his letter.

 

“I’m glad you’re safe. Both of you,” Adam said truthfully, unable to stay cross. “Would have been just like you to get your wife pregnant and then leave me to deal with the little nipper for the rest of my life.”

 

“Oh, like you won’t be besotted the moment you meet your niece or nephew. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

 

“Nephew,” Adam said, grinning at the look of joy on his brother’s face. “I was going to let you find out for yourself, but he was born last week. She’s calling him “Neil Kristopher” until you get home and insist he’s named after me.

 

“I’ll do nothing of the sort!” Neil said, letting out a whoop before Adam shushed him. “I..I was going to spend the night but would you mind terribly if I left immediately?” Neil didn’t wait for an answer. “Bollocks to you if you do mind. I’m off. My best to Allen. Make adoring, soppy faces at him for me, since I know that’s all you’re capable of.”

 

With that, Neil was down the stairs and out the door, off to hire a carriage home.

 

Adam closed his chamber door and turned to see if Kristopher was still asleep. He didn’t move, so Adam unfolded the little piece of paper and read.

_My love,_

_I’m crossing so many miles to come home, I imagine that once I arrive, any boundaries remain between us will dissolve as if they never existed in the first place. You know that when we at last become one body, it will be my first – as you have already been so many of my firsts I shouldn’t be self conscious about it, but I worry, of course._

_I worry that when you see me again, I won’t be able to live up to your memory or expectation._ _I worry that in my lack of experience, I will not be able to satisfy you as you have need of.  I worry that in my long silence someone else came along and filled my place._

 

_Your letter was such balm for my worries, and I hope that when I see you again that everything falls into place as it seemed to when we fell in love._ _I know we have much to discuss, and much to share.  We have changed, I’m sure, and our circumstances have changed, but this much has not. I remain your Kristopher, and now that your Kristopher is returning to you, he very much hopes that you are a man of your word, for he intends to hold you to the very letter of your Promise. _

 

_Forgive my eagerness; forgive my clumsy words and hasty penmanship. It is not easy for me to sit idle on this ship knowing that our time apart grows short.  I’ve been thinking of you, late at night, and imagining how it will be when we are together. Sometimes I do more than imagine, getting ready for you. I touched you, through your breeches once, and that memory has been my pillow-book all these months. I look forward to adding more pages._

 

_Yrs –_

 

_KA _

 

Adam folded the piece of paper and tucked it into the drawer of his bedside table, where all his other letters from Kristopher were secreted away. His heart was full as he disrobed again and climbed back into bed with his still sleeping lover.  Adam had just snuggled against his back when Kris rolled over to face him, brown eyes wide open and mischievous.

 

“You heard all of that, I take it?” Adam asked, laughing at Kris’s expression.  He stroked Kris’s hip, admiring the lovely shape with his hand.

 

“You have a nephew!” Kris said gleefully. “Called Neil Kristopher! Did you know my middle name is Neil? He might as well be named for me entirely.”

 

“I’m sure that’s what Katherine intended,” Adam said through his laugh. “Should I be jealous?”

 

“Hardly,” Kris said, growing serious. “You know I’m yours. You’ve read my letter, haven’t you?”

 

“I did. And I do know you’re mine, incidentally, knew it even before I read your letter. Actions, you see, speak louder than words – though your words were indeed lovely and I thank you for them.”

 

“And I yours, even though they were not meant for me. You didn’t say anything about Bradley in your letter.”

 

“There is nothing to say,” Adam assured him. “He tried, quite convincingly at times, to regain my affections but I fear they have been irrevocably pinned on someone else.”

 

“Lucky fellow. Do I know him?” Kris jested, and Adam fell on him, nimble fingers tickling all sorts of sensitive places.  Their mouths collided, and the tickling ceased as they kissed instead, which Adam found was a much more satisfactory pastime.  In fact, Adam was fairly certain that kissing Kristopher had replaced attending fancy dress balls as his new favourite hobby.

 

Making a mental note to kiss Kristopher at a fancy dress ball at least once, for novelty’s sake, Adam broke the embrace begrudgingly. It was nearing dinnertime, and Kristopher hadn’t starved in Spain for months only to continue now that he was home.

 

“Get up Kristopher, and let’s find you something to wear. We’re taking dinner at the club tonight, and I’ll be damned if you wear that ratty uniform another moment.”

 

“I rather thought you liked me in it,” Kris said, pouting slightly.

 

“I like you out of it best.” Adam smirked, swatting Kris on his bare end. “But washed and mended, I imagine it would look fine. We’ll have to see some night.”

 

Kristopher raised his eyebrows and blushed a deep crimson before nodding.

 

“On second thought, perhaps dinner could wait a bit longer,” Adam offered, and Kris didn’t waste a second before getting on his knees, which Adam took for agreement. The hot mouth he felt on his prick moments later only served to further illustrate Kris’s accordance with the suggestion of a later evening meal. Adam closed his eyes, content to never eat again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Two Masters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the lovers return to Heathwick and all is settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed working on this story. A thousand thank yous to Fairfax Verde for donating and for being SO PATIENT with me. She never nagged me, not once!
> 
> I also owe a great debt to Almostkind27 and Bamberrific, without whom this would be a gigantic swoopy mess. Better Betas I could not ask for and I hope you will edit my stuff forever.
> 
> I also want to thank KateKat1010 for the beautiful cover and BeaBee for the amazing portrait. They add so much to the story and you both are so talented!
> 
> Lastly, thank you all for your feedback and comments. You keep me going - thank you for your patience with this last one, very tricky for me to write as honestly, I don't want to leave them behind. &lt;3 I hope you all enjoy this last bit.

 

“SO, HOW are you finding life ashore?” Horatio asked Kristopher after their meal was done and various other pleasantries had been discussed. They had taken dinner in an Inn on the East End, just reputable enough not to have any of Adam’s theatre acquaintances but a touch too dodgy for any high ranking Naval officers to consider dining in.“

It’s been lovely so far,” Kris said, eyes heavily lidded from a too much brandy.   “I’ve never been so...so” He gestured with his hands towards Adam as if to indicate how happy he’d been.




“Sore?” Archie suggested with a wink, his cheeks as rosy as Kristopher’s.  Kris’s eyes went round and his hands sort of flopped  at his sides, and Adam could not help but laugh at his unbelieving expression.  Horatio, for his part, grinned his sideways-grin at Archie and nudged him with his shoulder.

“Behave,” He mumbled, and Archie turned his shining eyes to his lover, cheeky as Adam had ever seen him as a youth.

“Please, Horatio.  He’s obviously doing just fine. Why, your first time I thought you’d never stop complaining.  You should have seen him, Kristopher, he wore such a perpetual grimace that Captain Pellew asked what was troubling him.” Archie was beside himself with glee, speaking in rushed, whispered tones. “Of course he just stood there doing his best impersonation of a goldfish. Good job I was there to explain how he’d fallen on his arse when we were on shore the night prior.” Kristopher covered his mouth with his hand, looking up at Horatio in disbelief.

“Oh yes, it was the perfect cover,” Horatio explained sarcastically. “He lectured me for a good half hour on the level of decorum expected of a Lieutenant and how I should be more careful with how much I imbibe on leave whilst in uniform.”

“Well better than the truth,” Archie said, sobering a little at Horatio’s stern look. Horatio softened instantly, giving Archie’s thigh a little squeeze so that he’d know that Horatio wasn’t upset, not truly. Adam thought they were sweet; they had a certain ease of being not unlike his parents when they were still alive. They were partners in the truest sense of the word, bound up in each other. Though they had the unenviable lot of hiding their affection, Adam did envy how they had managed to forge a life together.

“Nothing’s better than the truth, my lad,” Horatio offered, making Archie blush. “So long as it only falls on friendly ears. It’s nice,” Horatio said, turning towards Adam and Kristopher, “to have friends upon whom we are neither a burden nor a curiosity.”

“Agreed.” Adam said, raising his glass a little. “You two must come visit us at Heathwick after you’ve sent Old Boney down to the deep.”

“We shall,” Archie slurred.”It’s on th’way to my family estate. ‘Ratio’s coming to meet my mum and dad, first chance we get.”

Horatio eyed Kris levelly, as if trying to plot his course on a navigational map.

“What will you do, Allen, once back at Heathwick?”

Adam cast a hurried look in Kristopher’s direction. It’s not that they hadn’t discussed it, on the contrary, they had spoken of almost nothing else, but it had all been idle dreaming.

“We’re to spend a brief time with my parents in Biggleswade first and then...”Kristopher paused, holding Adam’s gaze “then we’ll have to go about putting our life back together, I suppose.”

“The foundation for the Church is poured, and the walls are up.  Kristopher can go back to preaching in the spring after the plaster has dried,” Adam pointed out, thinking that Kris would light up at the mention of his vocation the way he had before he left for Spain.  Now he only looked troubled, and Archie reached across the table and patted Kris’s hand.

“You’ll figure it out, mate. Have faith.  Just hold fast to each other.”  Archie looked at Adam pointedly, as if to imply that Adam had better hold fast, indeed.  Adam knew that Archie remembered him in his younger, more carefree days and wondered if he had said anything to Kristopher about his past romantic entanglements. Adam doubted it – as much as a theatre set gossiped amongst each other, there was an odd sort of honour about spreading talk further than the circle of intimates. 

“Best of luck to you both.” Horatio said, rising and offering his hand to Adam.

The December air was frigid; it was the coldest any Londoner could remember. The relatively mild November had left Adam unprepared for the bite of winter on his skin as he and Kristopher entered the carriage as fast as possible, their great wool coats and top hats making manoeuvring in the tight space of the two-man rig difficult. Kris glanced at him sideways, as if calculating, before scooting as close as he could possibly get and nuzzling under Adam’s arm. His cheeks were rosy with drink and merriment as much as the cold, and Adam leaned forward to catch his lips in an unexpected kiss.  Kissing Kristopher was still a delight to which he was wholly unaccustomed; the soft swell of his lower lip greeted Adam’s tongue like a new acquaintance, ripe with expectation. He had dreamed of this so often, this easy domesticity, that it almost seemed a dream still. The soft brush of Kris’s eyelashes against his cheek was reminder enough that the man in his arms was real and willing and in love with him.

“Would that we could stay here forever,” Kris mumbled against his ear. “Here in London.”

Adam understood his meaning perfectly. He himself had taken refuge in the anonymity of the large city to find himself, but that was a boy’s game, and they were both of them beyond their childhood. The last week had been but a honeymoon to them both, condensed into the span of one week, and Adam was reluctant to draw their time alone together to a close. But the world outside had its demands. The Bishop of Lincoln would be wanting to know of Kris’s whereabouts (and whatever his future plans would be) and only this morning Adam had received another letter from Kristopher’s mother enquiring if he had made it back to London safely. Adam had of course written her the day of his return, but their letters had obviously crossed each other’s paths.

“Would that we could.” Adam agreed, turning Kris’s face with his hand. Kris’s jaw felt strong beneath his fingers and he traced the line as their lips met, loving the sharp angle.  Kris tongue eagerly jutted twixt Adam’s parted lips.

When Kris had first kissed Adam, Adam had wondered if desperation and fear of separation had caused the encounter to be more heated than it would be otherwise. Upon waking the morning after their fist night spent together, Adam had been loath to open his eyes for fear that Kristopher would have left him while Adam still slumbered.  Even after Kris had rolled on his side; cock flush and hard and eager for good-morrow, Adam had been afraid to turn around.  After a week of indulging in every opportunity for physical intimacy, Adam was less worried about the appetite of his partner and more worried about his own stamina.

Kris slid onto his lap, straddling him with his legs slung wide. Adam could feel his arousal though his breeches, causing his own to feel uncomfortably tight. It wasn’t fair, really, that Kris could so easily bring him to attention. Adam was used to having more control over his own reactions but since Kris had returned he was no better than a school boy, his lust a painful and ever-present ache. 

“We really should head north soon, shouldn’t we? It’s almost Christmas.” Adam gasped between kisses, struggling to maintain some sort of composure in the carriage. They were making their way right through London proper and the thin walls would do little to shield the sounds Kristopher would soon tear from his throat, if recent history were any indication of his restraint (or lack thereof) of late.

“Yes, but not tonight” Kristopher mumbled, grinding down hard so that Adam had no recourse but to slide his hands around Kris’s posterior and move with him, putting aside all thoughts of responsibility and the future. There could be nothing but this at present; Kristopher’s insatiable mouth and the easy friction of two eager pricks only too recently acquainted.  “Please not tonight.”

“Not tonight.” Adam agreed. “Tomorrow maybe, or the next day perhaps.”

“Mmppph” Kris’s words were lost in Adam’s mouth, but Adam took his meaning.  The carriage ride was over and Kris pulled back from him, rapidly adjusting his clothing for the short walk to the front entrance to the flat. It was as much home now as it ever had been, and Adam was just as reluctant to leave it behind as Kris was. Adam watched Kristopher walk up the garden path and stand, completely at home, on the stoop as he waited for Adam to unlock the door.  He left the carriage himself after passing the fare to the driver and joined Kristopher at the door, hands trembling as he pressed the key into the keyhole and turned.  It was an old-fashioned lock-and-tumbler, and Adam had to work the key just-so. It was tricky enough when sober, but with the slight fog of scotch and blind desire working its way though his limbs it was neigh-on impossible.

“Let me.” Kris slid his hand over Adam, steadying it just enough so that the key turned easily in its lock. Adam sighed gratefully as it clicked and the door swung open. Kris glanced at him wryly before stepping across the threshold. “Just how deep in your cups are you?” He asked saucily, knowing all too well the cause of Adam’s sudden affliction. He placed his top hat gingerly on the foyer table and tugged his ascot loose so that the front of his shirt fell open.  Adam swallowed hard, trying to suppress the urge to take him here and now against the wall, on the staircase or on any unyielding surface they could stumble against in the dark. Adam marvelled at his own restraint all those months ago; it was unthinkable to him that there was a time he had forbidden himself the unparalleled pleasure of running his hand against the softly freckled skin of Kristopher’s shoulders, slipping beneath his shirt and waistcoat in one swift gesture.

“How will we manage not being able to do this whenever we please?” Kris groaned. “Adam, I don’t know that I can pretend that I don’t care for you as I do.”  Adam didn’t want to think about the future, or anyone else’s relationship difficulties at present. The liquor had gone to his head entirely, and Adam felt as though he was floating outside himself. He kissed Kristopher first on the neck and then again on the mouth, silencing his concerns for anything outside the matter at hand.  Kris was pliant beneath his hands, so Adam scooped him off his feet and moved towards the stairs, trying to focus on not tumbling backwards.




“Adam!” Kris protested, his head very nearly missing the wall. The apprehension in his voice was painted over with laughter as Adam rounded the corner at the top of the stair and passed into their shared bedchamber.  Discussions for the future were forgotten for the time being. After all, they had a long ride ahead of them tomorrow – they really should leave tomorrow. Such a trip would put them in Biggleswade on Christmas Eve, and Adam had a feeling there was no better gift he could give his would-be in-laws. 

                                                                                                               ***

KRISTOPHER woke after a particularly large pothole had sent his head careening against the side of the carriage window.

“Bloody hell,” He cursed, rubbing the hurt away.

“Poor lamb,” Adam said, pulling him close and kissing into his hair. The kiss landed nowhere near the sore spot, but it was the thought that was important. “Though you had better watch your language. Your mother will turn you out if you curse like that on Christmas Eve.”

“What day is it?” Kristopher asked earnestly, having lost track on the few-night’s journey from London.

“It’s Christmas Eve. Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“Ah. Good! I haven’t missed it!” Kris grinned, fishing into his coat pocket for a small, wrapped parcel he’d secreted away for the occasion.  Adam coo’d happily, eyes shining like a child’s.

“Presents already? I had a feeling this was going to be the best Christmas since I got my first pony.”

“You actually got a pony for Christmas once?” Kris asked, laughing at the absurd mental image of a fully-grown Adam astride a pretty white pony.

“I did – oh, don’t laugh, I was all of five years old.” Adam joined him in laughing, though, unable to resist the contagiousness of the sound. “I named him Carrots, like any decent five year old with a pony.  He was quite the little jumper and threw me at every opportunity, the bastard.  But, alas, I did love him in spite of his difficult nature. Perhaps because of it.”

“Now I know why you’ve fallen for me, “ Kristopher teased, settling beneath Adam’s arm  for warmth. The weather was chillier on the open road, and it had been many hours since they’d left the Inn.

“Oh yes, your nature is so difficult.” Adam’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he squeezed Kristopher tightly.  “Now, present?” He looked hopeful and made a furtive grab at the parcel, which Kris waved out of his grasp at the last second.

“Now, be good or Father Christmas won’t come at all.”  Making sure that Adam wore a suitably penitent expression first, Kris surrendered the package. “It isn’t much, I’m afraid. But I saw it the other day and, as I have come to understand, they are quite the rage in London. The shopkeeper told me that no gentleman could go without and still be called fashionable.”

“Ah, and I wondered why my stock was slipping; I haven’t been invited to a party in ages. Wherever did you get the money?” Adam asked earnestly, and Kris shook away the slight wound to his pride.

“I do have an account, Adam. It isn’t as full as yours but I promise it is sufficient.”

“Of course. Forgive me. You must understand, when you arrived in England with only the clothes on your back it was easy to forget you’d been getting a salary this whole time.”

“Think nothing of it,” Kris said earnestly. He knew Adam enjoyed providing for him and that he hadn’t meant any offence.  “Go on. Open it.”

Kris watched as Adam pulled untied the bit of cloth that he’d used to tie ‘round the pasteboard box.

“Is this?” Adam asked, recognizing it.

“My uniform queue ribbon, yes.” Kris smiled as Adam held out both the ribbon and his wrist expectantly. “It doesn’t quite go with your ensemble.”

“Oh, bother my ensemble. It’s sweet, I want to wear it.” So Kris wrapped it round his wrist and tied it tight, leaving the ends loose. Adam then pulled the lid off the box and pushed aside the cloth to reveal his present. Kris watched Adam’s eyes light up when he saw it – the double looped design of the Lorgnette catching Kris’s eye as it had in the shop. It was a beautiful quizzing glass, Kristopher had to admit to himself. The silver simply shone where it hadn’t been antiqued, and the carved design was elegant. Best of all was the blue stone set at the centre of the handle – it had been the blue of the stone that had so reminded him to Adam. Adam lifted the glass to his eye experimentally and waggled his eyebrow.

“As I understand you can fasten it to your hat when not in use and it is quite the thing.”

“It is! I shall use it to admire your beauty from across the room. Perhaps up close as well. It really is remarkable, your complexion. How do you achieve it?” Adam asked, leaning forwards.

“Liberal application of cat’s milk and garden mud.” Kristopher quipped, and for a moment, Adam believed him.

***

Adam grew more and more nervous with each step towards the Allen residence. The clouds that had been threatening snow all afternoon finally made good on their promise, and tiny snowflakes had begun to drift down from the heavens. The door was opened before they had even reached the halfway point of the walk, and Kimberly Allen flew out of the door towards her eldest son.  Neil followed behind her, trying to get her to slow down and not slip on the walk. There were two others in the door frame; Kristopher’s younger brother and his wife, Adam assumed.  That was a complication he had not expected.  Coming closer, Adam could see that the wife held a tiny baby.

“Kristopher!”

Adam stopped and watched as Mrs. Allen embraced her son. They were both soon enfolded by Mr. Allen, who had unashamed tears streaming down his face.  Adam turned his head, wanting to give them a private moment and all at once missing his own parents so powerfully that tears were filling his own eyes.

“And YOU!” Adam’s attention was pulled back towards the family as Mrs. Allen detached herself from her son and charged towards him. For a moment, Adam worried she was going to accuse him of ruining her boy, but when she reached him she threw her arms around him.

“You wonderful, wonderful....you brought him back to me. Just as you said you would. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry if we ever, if we made you feel...”

“Hush, madam. It’s all forgotten now,” Adam assured her, patting her on the back gently. Neil came to shake hands, thumping Adam once on the back.

“Well done, Lambert. Well done indeed. He looks well. He looks happy,” Neil Allen gave him an odd expression while commenting on his son’s happiness, relief and bewilderment all mixed together in one curious look.  Adam didn’t know quite how to take such affection. The Allens were a warm people, he gathered as much from his last visit. Yet he hadn’t been expecting such open arms. He looked at Kristopher, who was positively beaming at the site of Adam being welcomed.

“Happy Christmas, Mr. Allen.” Adam said, choking back tears and not knowing what else to say.

“Happy Christmas indeed!”

Mrs. Allen had prepared a Christmas feast that rivalled the staff at Heathwick’s best efforts. Adam was puzzled over where to sit – Daniel’s wife sat across from him and Mrs. Allen at the foot of the table. Shrugging his shoulders, he took the seat opposite Kristopher as if he were a wife rather than on the men’s side of the table. Kristopher’s mother and father exchanged glances, but after evidentally deciding that seating arrangements were the least awkward of part of their son’s choice in a mate and that they shouldn’t call attention to it. At any rate, Adam forgot to feel uncomfortable when the food was brought out.  The turkey was tender and buttery; delicious atop a flaky pastry that looked like it had been gilded. The Christmas pudding was particularly exquisite, and Adam’s praise was so effusive that Mrs. Allen blushed and rewarded him with the wishbone.  Adam offered the other side to Kristopher, who eagerly grasped the bone across the table.

“No fair!” Muttered Kristopher’s brother, who apparently was accustomed to taking part in the tradition.

“Oh, hush. Were it not for Mr. Lambert you would have been pulling the bone yourself this year,” His mother quieted him.

“At least I would have won. Kristopher always wins.”

“Heavens, you sound as though you’re little older than your daughter there,” his father chided, which made Daniel grin and poke at his baby girl, who gurgled affectionately.

Kristopher’s winning streak held fast, for Adam found himself clutching the broken end of the bone.

“Make a wish!” Mrs. Allen beamed at her eldest son, who was staring up at Adam as if he were the only one in the room.

“I can’t,” Kris said, eyes shining. “They’ve all come true.”

Adam flushed, feeling everyone’s eyes on him – all except for Daniel, who was too busy fussing over his daughter to pay them any mind.

“Presents!” Mrs. Allen announced, clasping her hands together and cutting through the awkward moment of silence.  She shooed her husband out of the room and cleared the table, bringing out tea and a freshly baked mince pies. Neil Allen reappeared a moment later with a large cloth satchel full of gifts.  He walked ‘round the table distributing them, and Adam was surprised when he ended up with a large box himself.

Everyone else was opening their gifts, so Adam ran his hand beneath the brown paper wrap, catching Mrs. Allen’s eye as he did so. She winked at him, an altogether masculine gesture that tickled his fancy. Adam had already liked Kristopher’s mother, seeing very much of his temperament in her, but the evening had exceeded his expectations.  He sighed contentedly, wondering how a man in his position could get so lucky.

The box contained an embroidered waistcoat – the elegant pattern rivalling anything he’d buy in London, even if the cloth was a touch coarse. He gasped, running his hand over the needlework along the pockets.

“Oh my, Mrs. Allen. This is...you must recommend me to your tailor, he does fine work.”

The table erupted into laughter and Mrs. Allen flushed a deep crimson.

“Mother, you must be sure to pass along Mr. Lambert’s compliments,” Daniel said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Come, now Daniel. Don’t be facetious,” Mrs. Allen corrected, but smiled into the joke. Adam sat confused as to what they were all so amused by until Kristopher leaned over and mumbled,

“She made it herself. She has quite the knack, wouldn’t you say?”

Adam opened and closed his mouth, quite at a loss for words. He’d never had a garment that hadn’t been purchased from a tailor, and apart from the odd favour from schoolmates, never a present that been made by its giver.

“I can hardly believe it,” Adam said honestly, rising from the table and removing his tailcoat. “I shall try it on at once!” Daniel’s wife blushed and turned her head as Adam removed his waistcoat as well, but Adam could hardly be bothered with such formality. He could see that Mrs. Allen looked pleased that he was so taken.

The garment fit him snugly, but such was the fashion. The cream colour brocade lovely against his starched white shirt, and the stitching of deep blue and pale gold was in perfect accent to the midnight-coloured breeches he had already been wearing.

“I thought it would look nice with your hair.” Kim Allen sat back from the table and eyed him appraisingly, clearly pleased with the effect.

“It is exquisite, and far too much, I assure you. You must forgive me for not bringing anything in return, I had no idea...”

At this Mrs. Allen burst into tears, so heavy and sudden that Adam didn’t know quite how to react.  Her motherly face reddened considerably, and she held up a hand to try and calm herself.

“Mama!” Kristopher said, rising and going to kneel beside her. Neil joined them, gently patting her shoulders for support but looking as though he might cry again himself.

“You brought back our boy,” Neil Allen explained, laying a hand on Kristopher’s shoulder. “I should think that will do quite nicely.”

“It was my most sincere pleasure to do so,” Adam said earnestly, and Kristopher smiled at him with such clear affection that even Daniel, who had always been a bit dim, couldn’t fail to notice.

 

                                                                                                           ***

 

KRIS surveyed the landscape with a heavily beating heart. It reminded him of the first time he had laid eyes on Heathwick. It felt like ages ago, given all the events that had transpired since he had first journeyed north with Katherine and Neil.  He was scarcely more than a child then, a child on his first foray into the world outside his countryside village. Never mind that his first step into the world had taken him to another small countryside village. Northgate, and Heathwick, were the first steps on a path that had taken him thousands of miles from home – both literally and figuratively. 

Kris smiled as Adam slid his hand beneath Kris’s palm, and the pair exchanged warm glances. 

“I was so heartbroken when I last returned home I could scarcely see the beauty here. Now that I have you, I can’t miss it. Not just with Heathwick, either. Every Inn we stayed in, every mile we crossed to reach home – everything seems brighter with you beside me.” Adam confessed, and Kristopher snuggled in to the crook of his shoulder.

“S’ beautiful.” He agreed, and it was. Northgate was covered in snow, and Heathwick stood out on the hill like a jewel set into silver.

“Sit up. You’re missing the best part.” Adam pointed out the window with his free hand as the road bent westward. In the distance, beyond Heathwick, Kris could just see a grey stone steeple rising high atop the little hill. It was his church, the roof and walls made whole again and even better than before. The high roof was finished with curved tiles rather than wood thatch, and her windows were real stained glass in lieu of the leaded glass that had filled the arched openings.

“Saint Christopher!” Kris exclaimed, laughing as they pulled close enough to discern the first of the depictions.

“Patron Saint of travellers, or so Katy tells me. I never much cared for papist veneration, but when you and Neil first left she was very diligent in her devotion to that particular Saint. I may or may not have whispered a few prayers myself.” Adam mumbled into his hair, interspersing his words with kisses.  “Once the windows arrived my own devotion became easier.” Kris soon saw what he meant. Saint Christopher had an all too familiar set of brown eyes and mussed hair. Were it not for the lines of caning, Kris would have thought he was looking into a mirror – albeit a stained glass one.

“It’s subtle, I’m sure no one will notice,” Adam assured him, patting his thigh gently.

“Subtle,” Kris echoed, smiling wryly, for the likeness was anything but. He supposed he should be embarrassed but he was too touched by the gesture.

“Didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” Adam said quietly, and Kristopher wrapped his arms around him. “And I can see that from my window. It made me feel as if  you were with me still…” Adam flushed, a rare sight, and seemed too overcome to continue.

“You mustn’t feel the need to explain yourself,” Kris said, enjoying the warmth that was radiating from Adam’s chest. “You neednt’ve gone to such lengths to keep me in your memory.”

“I needn’t have gone to any lengths to keep you in my memory – you were quite impossible to forget. I did miss you, though, It’s not as if I could commission a locket as a forget-me-not.” Adam pouted into Kris’s neck. “I had to be sneaky.” Kris grinned and ran his fingers through Adam’s soft copper hair.

“Now you can look across your bed to see me instead of across the garden,” He growled into Adam’s ear.

“For now…” Adam said, sighing, and Kris grumbled low in his throat. It was the truth, pure and simple. He hadn’t the foggiest what the Bishop of Lincoln would do with him now that he was back in England.  Kris had put off writing to him of his return as long as polite, mentioning in his letter that he was travelling home to visit with his family  before returning to Northgate and the parish at Heathwick to check on the progress of the church. He half expected that a new assignment would be waiting for him upon his arrival.  Sharing his fears with Adam had only served to make the other man morose for the last leg of their journey. Kristopher had only been able to coax a smile from him by sinking to his knees on the floor of the carriage and working him over with lips and tongue till his cloudy disposition receded.

The carriage stopped short and Kris gulped before stepping outside of the carriage door.  Though there was snow on the ground, the weather was fair, and the morning sun danced on the frozen landscape.

“Welcome home,” Adam whispered in his ear. Kristopher turned to face him, drinking in the view of the landscape. Adam’s breath fogged about his face, visible in the cold. He laughed all of a sudden, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kristopher could feel joy radiating from his lover, encompassing him and chasing away any lingering apprehension and the chill in the air.

“We should go in,” Adam said, pulling back suddenly as if he had only just remembered that they weren’t in private.

“You’re quite right,” Kristopher said, eager to have breakfast. It had been a long ride North from Biggleswade and their last home-cooked meal. His mother had made a marvelous send-off feast on their last night at the Allen’s, but it had been a long week of tavern-food. 

“I can’t wait to see my nephew!” Adam’s was smiling so brightly that Kristopher wondered if the snow wasn’t mirroring light from his face as well as the sun – the world seemed so gloriously alive with light. “Your namesake, too. Neil Kristopher, Katy mentioned in her last letter.” Adam reminded him, having mentioned it upon occasion prior. He had clearly been trying to coax a reaction out of Kris, who had merely nodded. It was an honour that Kris was uncomfortable with – surely the child should have been named after his Uncle, or grandfather. Adam had explained that it was most likely because Kristopher’s life had been in peril due to Katy’s indirect actions, but Kristopher still felt unsure. He hung back as Adam knocked at the door. It was opened presently by Kristopher’s housemaid for the short time he had lived at the parsonage.

“Master Adam!” She exclaimed, face lighting up. “And Reverend Allen, welcome home!”

_Reverend Allen._ He had never grown used to the title, and it had been months now since he had heard it. Adam only called him by his given name, or some endearment. Neil had always favoured his surname, and the Spaniards had called him “Padre.” To the people of Northgate and the servants of Heathwick, however,  he had only ever been Reverend Allen.  Kris smiled thinly as Adam stood aside so he could enter.  Heathwick was grand, even grander now that it was decorated for Holidays.

“Adam! Kristopher!” Katherine rose from her chair in the parlour and crossed to where Kris was standing. She was radiant in a green velvet gown, her yellow hair shining against the dark fabric where it hung in carful ringlets.  The gown and hair were the definition of feminine beauty, but Kris was more moved by the glow in her eyes. She was happy, and so was he: for her, and for himself. He had been secretly afraid of this moment, that seeing her again would re-awaken feelings he had assured himself were gone. They were not gone, and never would be, but his love for her had faded into a steadfast fondness. She looked beautiful, but her beauty no longer moved him. “Reverend Allen, meet Neil Kristopher.” Katy was holding a little bundle that turned out to be a wiggling baby boy. He had his father’s curls but his uncle’s copper colouring. When he yawned and opened his eyes, Kristopher could see that they were green.

“He has your eyes,” Kristopher said, smiling at his erstwhile sweetheart.

“For now,” Katherine replied, clearly pleased with the development. “You can never tell with infants. Sometimes they change their colour after a few months. Mother seems to think they’ll remain green like mine.”

“Might I hold my nephew?” Adam interjected eagerly, and as Katherine nodded and carefully handed him baby Neil.  Kristopher felt an unexpected sadness pull at his heart as Adam held the child.  Adam’s face lit up with merriment as baby Neil extended his little hand towards Adam’s face. “He knows me!” Adam exclaimed.

“He’s blaming you for his hair,” Neil said, approaching from behind and clasping Adam around the shoulder.

The root of his sadness hit Kristopher all of a sudden - they were a family – Neil and Katherine and Adam and little baby Neil. They were a family and Kristopher would never truly be part of it.  He and Adam would never have children; they would never host a meal such as the one his parents had on Christmas Eve.

“It’s not as if it’s my fault, is it? We’ll have to complain to whichever Lambert toppled a Scottish miss, won’t we?” Adam coo’d, poking at the baby’s rather Lambert-ish nose. “I bet he’ll get the freckles too. Poor lad, poor lad.”

“Adam, you shouldn’t say toppled in front of a baby,” Katy chided, giggling.

“Oh, let him. I won’t have any of this old-fashioned country foolishness. My son will know the way of things and that will be that.” Neil attempted to look authoritative but he was too charmed by his wife’s blush.  “Come Adam, Let Allen hold his namesake.”

Adam pouted but obediently offered the baby to Kristopher.

“I, ah…”

“Like this,” Adam said, placing the child firmly in his arms. “Support his head, like so. His little neck isn’t strong enough yet.” Adam seemed like he knew what he was doing, so Kris trusted his advice. Baby Neil looked up at him appraisingly.

“Hullo.” Kris said, feeling foolish speaking to an infant as though he could understand. “I’m Kristopher.”

Baby Neil beamed up at him, which would have been absolutely precious had the grin not been accompanied by a foul odour and offensive noise.

“Just a bit of wind,” Katy laughed. “All this jostling him about. Now, Neil, be polite to your Godfather.”

For a moment, Kris was confused, thinking she had spoken to her husband. He looked up at Katy, who tilted her head towards Neil Senior. Neil cleared his throat.

“Katherine and I were hoping that you would do us the honour of being the child’s Godfather. Seeing as how Adam is little better than a heathen-“

“I’m very spiritual!” Adam interjected, mockingly defensive.

“-and as we assume you’ll be a part of this family for many long years to come, it seems only logical.” Neil continued.

“I’d ah-.” Kristopher swallowed hard, trying to conceal the surge of emotion threatening to make speech impossible. “I’d be honoured, truly. But wouldn’t you rather some family member or-” He stopped as Katherine shook her head and as Adam leaned close to him, gently pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“You are family,” Adam mumbled, and Kristopher flushed deeply. Adam had never kissed him in front of anyone, and though it wasn’t at all lewd it felt strange – especially with Neil grinning at them with raised eyebrows and Katherine looking positively thrilled. Adam pulled back and Kristopher saw that Adam was pink about the cheeks as well.

“Of course you are,” Katherine assured him, but looked at Adam too. “The Bishop will see that, too, Kristopher. Not in the same way we do, of course, but perhaps your being Junior’s Godfather will help you to stay at Heathwick.”

“Bishop?” Adam and Kristopher both asked at once and with such alarm that Katherine moved to take baby Neil from Kris, evidentially fearing for his safety.  

“The Bishop of Lincoln has informed me that he will be visiting us shortly after the Holiday to meet the Clergy’s newest veteran. He’s due to arrive on the morrow,” Neil offered. “Forgive me for not sending word, but I wasn’t sure how far behind you’d be. That is to say, I wasn’t sure how long you’d stay in London.” Neil restated, narrowing his eyes at Adam. “ I didn’t know how long it would take for you both to sort out your _affairs _before –“ Adam slugged him gently on the shoulder, fighting back a laugh.

“That’s enough, thank you. Not all of us are accustomed to soldier’s manners.”

“Oh, forgive me, I forgot how delicate your sensibilities are.”  Neil rolled his eyes, smiling as Kris felt heat rising into his cheeks. He ransomed a glance at Katy, who was struggling to keep an even face.

“The Bishop is coming here. Tomorrow.” Kris watched as the mirth melted off the faces of his three companions. Wordlessly, he handed little Neil back to his mother, who hush’d him even though he wasn’t fussing at present. “Of course I’ll be the child’s Godfather, but what if the Bishop has ill news? What if I’m to be sent with another regiment? What if another vicarage has need of an assistant? What if he suspects, if he…” _What if someone in London saw something they shouldn’t have and now I’ll be without my life’s work and –_

Adam heard his unspoken fears and placed a gentle hand on his back.

“Everything will be as it should. Have faith. Someone gave me that bit of advice once and it worked out rather well for me, wouldn’t you say?”  His smile was comforting, but Kristopher was worried that he was too confident. He should be afraid, even if only a little. The Bishop’s visit could change everything. Though Kris had reconciled his love of God and his love of Adam as not mutually exclusive, he had not yet resolved his duties as a man of God to his desire for Adam as a man. How could he preach against the something he believed was not a sin but an act of love? He wasn’t ready for the Bishop – Kristopher was not a practised liar, and if the man had any reason to suspect, Kris knew he would tell the truth when pressed. Even if sodomy was not a sin in his mind, lying was. “I am sure we can persuade him to let you stay on at Heathwick, even if he suspects that your adherence to Church doctrine is not as rigid as it once was.”

“How do you suppose to do that?” Kris asked earnestly. Adam was persuasive, to be sure, but if the Bishop had heard anything untoward, Kristopher doubted that he would be allowed to remain at Heathwick, even if he thought it was only rumours.

“How do you think Adam is still a member in good standing of the Church of England?” Neil joked. “How are half the House of Lords – heaven knows what evils they’ve committed – still in His Grace?”

Kris looked from Adam to Neil as though they had shared a secret. When Kris shrugged, Neil chuckled to himself. He looked at his wife, who nodded and left the room with the child. Kristopher felt his heart grow heavy.

“When I was last in London,” Adam began, “I was hardly discreet.”

“Hardly” Neil echoed.

“My pursuits came to the attention of His Grace not long after I moved. Apparently there was some discussion with my father as to whether or not I’d be allowed back into a church. Knowing that I’d soon be reaching a marriageable age and, my father still hoping I’d come round, my father and the Bishop came to terms. So long as I proved my piety by making a sizable donation to the church, I would be welcomed into the fold with open arms.”

“You purchased an indulgence?” Kristopher asked, aghast. “Like a papist?”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? One of the very things they broke with Rome over was their first suggestion as a solution to my particular problem. Of course, membership in the Church is essentially required for people of our social standing. I wouldn’t even be able to do business if I were tossed out on my arse.”

Kristopher felt ill, as though at sea for too long and tossed about in a storm.

“And now you’re suggesting that my…that we simply buy away our problems, just like that?” Kristopher’s voice was shaking, and the conspirator’s glee fled from Adam’s eyes. “That I should stand up on the pulpit and lie, and that you should pay so I can keep on lying, so we can all pretend that no one is the wiser.”

“No, Kristopher, you aren’t going to be lying. You wouldn’t…”

“I would. Sooner or later, I’ll be expected to take a wife. What of that, Adam? Should I lie to her as well?”

“There are plenty of celibate priests,” Adam protested, knowing full well that they were few and far between.

“Perhaps you should take a wife as well. That way we can be neighbours and you can slink into my bedchamber window and fuck me and no one will be the wiser.” Kristopher was shouting now, the anger and fear inside him boiling up and frothing over like milk.

“I should leave…” Neil said, trying to excuse himself.

“Oh, did I offend your sensibilities?” Kris said, rounding on him. “It was all well and good for you to joke, Lambert, when you thought of it as some jolly lark that you were privy to. Now that it comes down to it you aren’t sure if you want to be complicit in bribery, are you?”

“I merely thought to offer you some privacy,” Neil said calmly, and Kris felt remorseful for lashing out at his friend. Neil turned and left the room, closing the heavy oak parlour doors behind him. The room felt much smaller – Kristopher had never seen them closed.

“I didn’t think of it as a bribe, not really.” Adam broke the newly fallen silence, face as pale as the snow on the hillside. “Simply as a solution. I never held the Church in high esteem – sorry, but you know my feelings on the subject – so I never felt guilty for my indulgence, as you term it. I never dreamed you would object. It’s such a trifling thing, really.”

“Do you have enough money to simply buy away all your problems, Adam? Are you really so well off as all that? Between the wedding, Neil’s commission, the parish fire, our ransom…can you really afford to keep gilding over any obstacle in our path?” Kris closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around Adam’s waist. He pressed his hand flat against the small of Adam’s back, finding the hollow just above the swell of his backside. “I love you, you know that.” Kris looked up into Adam’s eyes, their magnificent blue dimmed somewhat with worry. “But I don’t feel that my continued service in the Church is a trifling matter. If I continue on, it will be with an earnest heart.”

“Had our love been allowed to take a natural course, this wouldn’t be any difficulty,” Adam’s voice was delicate and his forehead creased they way it always did when he was concerned or deep in thought. “I should have listened to your parents. They begged me to discuss our future before we rushed headlong into anything and instead I went and-“

“Hush,” Kris attempted to silence him, tilting his head and kissing Adam’s neck softly. “It could not have been any other way. I wouldn’t wish for it to have been any other way. I was in such a state when we were reunited - I would have died if I spend another night without you inside me.”

“Peculiar fever.” Adam quipped, kissing Kristopher’s head.

“Even stranger the cure.” Kris squeezed him tight, sighing loudly as though to lend weight to his next words. “I would that I could, but I cannot let you buy my freedom a second time. I must ask you not to try.”

“I promise.” Adam tilted Kris’s face towards his own. Kris could see the honesty written there, plain as day, and knew Adam would be faithful to his word. He kissed Adam softly, wishing for all the world that he could let himself choose the easier path.

The next morning, Kris awaited Bishop Clark in the parlour, along with Katherine and Neil Senior. Adam had gone out for the day, as if by some unspoken agreement that it would be best if he were not present. After Katherine’s tenth “I’m sure he’ll be along presently,” Kris had given up sitting as a lost cause and had begun to pace in front of the open doors to the foyer with intent. Unfortunately, all the pacing brought him was an excellent view of the Lambert family portrait, and seeing little Adam looking so displeased did nothing to brighten his mood.

“You’re sending me off my senses, Allen,” Neil said, grabbing his hand as he passed by and pulling him down on the fainting couch. “You look as though you’re awaiting your own execution.”

“In a manner of speaking, I am.” Kris clasped his hands together over his knees and hung his head, trying to find solace in the hardwood flooring.

“You shouldn’t speak that way, Kristopher. It’s none of my business other than that I care for you both very much, but I think that you and Adam are being a bit melodramatic about this whole ordeal. It isn’t so complicated after all-“

“Katherine...”Neil warned, but Katy rose and came to sit at Kristopher’s feet, turning her big green eyes up at him.

“No, I will speak my mind. You love him, do you not?”

Kris was almost startled by her frankness. Adam had confessed that he and Katherine had grown quite close and that she knew his heart, but she and Kris had never spoken of it aloud.  In fact, they hadn’t a real conversation since the night he had asked for her hand so many months ago.

“Of course,” Kristopher said after a time, realizing how much he had missed her companionship; how when he had been studying, isolated from boys his age, she had been his only friend.

“And he loves you, I know he does. I was with him, Kristopher, when we didn’t know if you were alive or dead. He was a mere shadow of himself.”

Kris didn’t like to think of the months that Adam had gone without word; he felt guilty, as though he should have been able to let him know he was all right even though such action had been impossible.

“You were not so concerned with what was proper when you asked my father for my hand. It’s what I have always admired about you, that you followed your heart, whatever the consequence. If your heart is with Adam, you can be no better man than you are with him.”

“I’ve taken vows, Katy, and at the same time, I’ve vowed to forsake them. It’s not an act I take lightly. There are other things at stake here – you and Neil, and your child...my parents. It’s all well and good to think that the world will look the other way but the reality of it is we are not as enlightened as we pretend. More than that, I worry for Adam. It is said that the honour of a gentleman is the measure of his worth. All this time, Adam has managed to live two lives and by refusing to do the same, I have forced his hand. If the Bishop knows – and if he suspects, I will not lie to convince him otherwise. If he knows and if he decides to make it well known, I will have ruined Adam.”

“But if you lie you will ruin yourself, certain sure,” Katherine said, patting his hand and rising. “I don’t give a damn for the honour of gentlemen, Kristopher Allen, and I suspect that although he puts on a mighty fine show of it, neither does Adam.  Nor do your parents.”

“I couldn’t give a bloody care either, not that anyone’s asking me.” Neil crossed his arms and looked at his wife admiringly, crossing his arms in a gesture of amusement.

“Bishop to see you, Reverend.”

The serving girl bobbed a curtsey and stood aside as Bishop Clark entered the room. Katy rose at once, trying to look as though kneeling at the side of her pastor was an entirely normal pose for a married woman. Neil rose as well, his countenance as level and practiced as it had been when he addressed his unit.

“Bishop Clark, how good to see you.” Neil bowed formally before Clark gestured him in for a clap on the shoulder.

“They told me the Spaniards had wounded you, boy, but you look as healthy as ever. I suppose that’s thanks to your lovely wife.”

“You’ve never met my Katherine, nor her like, I’d wager,” Neil said, gesturing to his wife, who curtseyed and came to stand beside her husband. “We’ll be off, I’m sure you have lots to discuss with the Reverend here, and I promised Katherine we’d take a ride in the cutter. Not too chill outside, I trust?”

“Not so bad, considering.” Clark grinned; clearly Neil’s charm had won over the Bishop long ago and was set on continuing in his good graces, no matter how he spoke of him privately. In prison, Kris had been surprised to learn that Neil, like his brother, was not particularly pious. He simply understood that there was much to be gained from a good relationship with the Church, and took a certain amount of roguish satisfaction in playing the part of a dutiful servant. Neil winked at Kristopher before leaving, and Katy favoured him with a pleading look until Neil turned her round the corner.

Kristopher looked up at Bishop Clark, who held out his hand. Kristopher kissed it, and Clark slid his arm round Kristopher’s shoulders.

“Your path has been a peculiar one, my boy.”

He knew. Kristopher could feel it emanating from his eyes, still bright in their ancient sockets. Clark was not one to miss a trick, if the clergy gossips could be believed.

“Our Father has sent me places I never thought I’d go, and given me trials I never thought I’d face.” Kris took his other arm and helped him sit in Neil’s red leather chair.  “But I don’t regret the journey.”

“Good man. You always were a good man, Allen, or so they tell me.”

“I still am, I hope.”

“Are you?” The Bishop said, evidently cutting to the chase. “I came here today to see the status of the Church that Adam Lambert is building for us.  I see that the stone walls have been put up but I haven’t been inside yet.”

“It’s unfinished as of yet,” Kristopher informed him. “The snow has to melt in order for the plaster to set.”

“I think the plaster was set long before the snow fell. Perhaps even before the church burned down.” The Bishop looked at Kristopher, his eyes a piercing copper colour that looked almost golden in the morning light.

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.” Kristopher feared that he understood all too well what the Bishop’s meaning was. The old man sighed, breath rattling in his chest like wind through the rushes.

“You have no skill at deception, Allen. Your guilt was transparent though the window even as I came up the walk.  I know what Adam is, everyone does.”

“He is an honourable man,” Kristopher’s temper flared, “and quite a patron of yours.”

“I suppose he thinks his patronage extends to you. I assure you it does not. I’ve turned a blind eye to his blatant sins for far too long, out of respect for his parents and in the hope that he would outgrow his wildness. I’ll not suffer him to drag you down with him. Imagine the gall, seducing a man of God into...if half of what I hear is true, your back has been up against half the walls in London.”

“He did nothing of the sort,” Kris rose from the chair beside him, unable to sit while Adam was being so attacked. “Not that it is any business of yours.”

“My dear boy, how could it not be my business? The affairs of all my priests are my business. It would be one thing if your return was not the talk of the London clergy, and let me assure you, it was. Everyone waited to be the first to welcome you home, for surely you would show your face at Church to give thanks to God for your safe return. When you didn’t come on the first Sunday, it was passed off as exhaustion. When you didn’t come again the next week, people started to wonder. Imagine my surprise when the first priest to see you told me that you’d been spotted taking dinner at the Eastby, and that after dinner you engaged in some very ungodly behaviour with our favourite little prodigal, Adam Lambert. Everyone wondered why he had taken such an interest in rebuilding your church. We had hoped that it was resurgence in faith and a return to God. Evidently not.”

Kris felt a pang of guilt – once he had returned home to London he had thought of nothing save being with Adam. In fact, the first time he had set foot inside a Church was on Christmas Day, and though the ritual was comforting, he felt further from God there than when he was alone with Adam – passing the time intimately or innocently.

“So you would condemn me based on hearsay and rumour?” Kristopher asked, doing his best to evade the inevitable.

“You have not denied it.” The Bishop’s face grew grave. “If it were not true, I should have thought you would have told me otherwise by now. Though it is not so much the truth of the thing, but the perception of it.  The question in my mind is not whether or not you have sinned, Kristopher Allen, the question is what you can do to prove to me that you are worthy of God’s grace.”

“I need not endeavour to prove that to you, or any other man. I have no doubt that I shall pay for my sins, but I dare say that the love I bear for Adam is not one of them.”

“You admit it then,” Clark was growing more and more agitated. Clearly he had thought his speech would have a more profound effect. “I suppose I shall have to award the parish here to someone more worthy of the honour. You disappoint me, Allen, I had high hopes for you.”

“You would have never noticed me at all were it not for Neil Lambert bringing me here.”

“Perhaps it would have been better for you had he never done you that favour.”

“I highly doubt that,” Kristopher snapped, at the end of his patience. “But you can be sure to question his judgement the next time he drops off a donation. Come to think of it, it’s funny that the Lamberts’ generosity came up earlier. I am sure Canterbury would be interested to know that you accepted money for the absolution of a sin. They tell me that sort of behaviour is rather frowned upon these days.”

“I don’t know where you got such an idea, nor the fortitude to threaten me.” The Bishop rose quickly.

“Adam seemed to have a silly idea that his charitable donations were the only thing keeping him in your – oh, excuse me - _God’s_ good graces. Don’t worry, however, I’m not one to gossip. I understand how the word does spread. However, as I won’t be in your employ any longer, I would appreciate it if you kept my so-called sinful behaviour to yourself.  I ask this, not for myself, but because I worry how it would look for you if, after all these years, one of your greatest benefactors seduced a member of the clergy away from his duties and into a life of sin.  That’s not the whole story, not by a long shot, but it’s as you said before – it’s not so much the truth of a thing as it is the perception of it.” Kristopher was surprised with the force of his words, as he sounded more sure of them than he had ever sounded of anything.  Bishop Clark looked aghast.

“You can be sure that I will handle the matter with discretion.” He said at last, and Kristopher let out the breath he had been holding. “As you said, God shall be your judge. I just hope...” and Kristopher thought that he looked a little sad now that the arguing was over with “I just hope you know what you are doing.”

“Do any of us really?” Kristopher mused. “Can any man live by anything but the guiding light of his own conscience?”

“What should I say about your leaving? If you do care for the Church-“

“Of course I do. You can simply say that the time in Spain was difficult for me and that I’ve decided that God was calling me in a different direction. It’s the honest truth.”

“I’ve heard stranger convictions.” Clark shook his head resignedly. “If you ever change your mind, my door is always open.”

“I’m glad of that, but I know my heart will not be moved.” Kristopher was trying to keep from shaking, nerves completely shot from the momentous turn of events.

“Then heaven have mercy on you both.” Bishop Clark left the room, and Heathwick, without another word to anyone.

                                                                                                              ***

ADAM woke in his bed alone for the first time since Kris had returned from the war. Even on the road they had shared a room, common enough in the Inns that dotted the roadside. After Bishop Clark had left Kristopher had retired to his room, which hadn’t surprised Adam.  In their few weeks of close cohabitation Adam had learned that when Kris felt overwhelmed, he withdrew slightly for some quiet reflection.  Adam guessed that it was a holdover from the many long hours of contemplation during his training to become a priest.  Kristopher never remained on his own for long, however, and at half ten he had come to Adam’s bed and slid in beside him. Adam remembered kissing the back of his neck and holding his hand before falling into a deep sleep, feeling that all was right in the world – or at least their very small part of it.

He must have slipped out again in the small hours of the morning, for Adam was certainly alone in the room now. Before he could feel any alarm, he heard the faint strains of music. Kristopher was playing a melody Adam did not know, haunting and sad. He rose, the floor icy-cold against his bare feet. Sliding on his house slippers, he ventured down the hall and descended the gently curving stair in the dark. He hadn’t bothered with a candle; the dark walk to the conservatory coming back to him like second nature.  Adam paused outside the conservatory, placing a hand on the cold door knob. The memory of the last night they had been in this room together was overwhelming. Adam had been attracted to Kristopher at first sight at Neil’s wedding, but it was in this room that he first thought that any attachment might be possible. It was in this room that they had become friends, that they had shared their mutual grief. It was in this conservatory that Adam had been able to hear music without immediately connecting it to his broken heart. It was here his heart had been made whole again.

Kristopher played another chord, the structure unfamiliar to Adam’s ears but it felt tense, as though the notes were too close together to be played at the same time.  Kris resolved the discordant sound soon enough, melting away the apprehensive tones and leaving only a hollow minor fourth. Adam suddenly felt like he was intruding, which was preposterous as it was his own house, after all, but he stilled himself and listened to the music. There were more unusual chords, beautiful even though they pulled at something deep inside him that made a lump rise in his throat.

Adam finally turned the knob, entering the conservatory and quietly closing the door behind him. Kristopher apparently did not hear his entry, for he kept at the piano. Adam walked close behind him and placed his hands gently on Kristopher’s shoulders. Kris stilled beneath his hands and relaxed against Adam’s stomach. Kris tilted his head up and Adam could feel himself drowning into the rich brown of Kristopher’s eyes, sleepy and sad though they were.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kristopher said, looking apologetic.

“You should have woken me.” Adam slid his hands lower on Kris’s chest till they met beneath his chin. Kristopher was in his nightshirt, though he had pulled on a pair of linen breeches. Adam hadn’t bothered with them before coming downstairs, a fact that he much regretted at the moment.

“I knew you would come,” Kristopher smiled up at him. The grin was a little melancholy but it was still good to see him smile.  “We weren’t really home till we arrived here.” He gestured around the room, dimly lit as it was by candlelight.

“True.” Adam had only a little time to agree before Kristopher reached up and pulled his face down for an inverted kiss. “I was worried…I wanted to ask how you had left things with the Bishop but...I feared perhaps you wouldn’t want me anymore.” Adam whispered the words that had been plaguing his mind since the afternoon they had arrived back at Heathwick. The Allens’ had warned him to consider their future, to proceed with caution and instead he’d allowed his desire for Kristopher overcome his judgment. They had been foolishly careless in London - ducking behind buildings for a quick snog, furtive touches beneath the table at Adam’s supper club… normal occurrences for any young couple in love , but Adam had forgotten that they were not any young couple. Kristopher was not Bradley – Adam had never taken Brad to anywhere in society, save Vauxhall where they had been masked. There were enough whispers about his own preference in sexual partners; he should have been more cautious in venturing out with Kristopher on their own.

“Silly.” Kris assured him. “Were I going to give you up, I wouldn’t be cruel enough to remain, would I?”

“’Suppose not.” Adam replied, not entirely confident in this line of reasoning.  Kris sat up and reversed directions so that his chin was pressed into Adam’s stomach.

“What is it, love?” Kristopher asked. “I thought you told me to have faith.”

 “I am not accustomed to being unable to help. When you were in Spain I nearly went mad and today I felt like I had left you in the lion’s den on your own. I should have-“

“I am still my own man, Adam, though my heart is yours I must solve some things on my own. You must understand that’s why I couldn’t let you buy the Bishop’s ignorance.”

“You were so upset with me yesterday,” Adam ventured, “I was only trying to help. Money isn’t the answer to all life’s ills, Kris, I know that, but it does make things easier. I just wanted for you to keep on with the life you had planned. Why should your love of me interfere?”

“How can it not?” Kris rose from the bench and leaned into Adam, pressing his nose just beneath Adam’s jawbone. “You have not re-written me, Adam. I am not a different person now that we … have entered into an understanding.  I would not have chosen to become a priest, Adam. I accepted it and, yes, enjoyed it, but it was a means to an end. It would have provided a life for Katherine – but it does nothing for the kind of life I intend to lead with you.”

“Which is what, exactly? If you aren’t – if you’ve left the Church.... I hardly think that excommunication would be a subtle matter.”

“Surely Bishop Clark won’t resort to excommunication. I reasoned that my time in prison changed my heart and I no longer feel I can serve in a leadership position. He did ask me about you, Adam, and I didn’t lie. He said that he would pray over the matter, and for my soul, and for your soul, and the souls of my...you get it, I’m sure. He insisted on my immediate resignation, which I of course gave.  I am Reverend Allen no longer.”

Adam opened and shut his mouth, not having considered this particular outcome.

“What do you intend we do now?” Adam asked, being at a loss for any plans of his own.

“We’ll get our own place. Further north, maybe. Or London. In Spain for all I care. It matters not, so long as I’m with you. I’m not entirely convinced we’ll have to leave society entirely – there are things I could do, Adam, here in North Gate. I am not entirely without prospects.”

“Don’t believe that I think you without a future, Kristopher. I’m merely shaken.  I am sure we will come up with some arrangement – we’ll have to,  I cannot leave the finances and business to Neil alone. I have for far too long, and I believe it’s cost us. Oh, he’s very clever, do not miss my meaning, but we had been paying a fellow to run the import portion of the business, as well as overseeing our investments while I gallivanted around London. It’s bad enough trying to manage things from Heathwick – we are rather remote.”  Adam paced the floor, feeling absurd discussing such matters while half dressed. “Though perhaps we could…I should speak with Neil, really. “  There was a much more convenient place from which to manage the imports, which were mainly rice and cotton from the former colonies, but Adam had never considered such a drastic relocation.

  
“What are you plotting, Adam?” Kris stilled Adam’s pacing by catching his hand and drawing him close. Adam’s breath caught as Kristopher drew him in. In this low light, his features were spellbinding, and Adam found himself quite bewitched. The idea of making a life with Kristopher away from the prying eyes of society had its appeal, even if the drawbacks were difficult to consider. The question in his eyes was begging an answer, but Adam resisted, knowing he should speak with Neil before raising any false hope.

“I have not yet begun to plot. I had a thought, in passing. You probably won’t like it anyway. I’m not sure that I like it.”

“All right then. Keep your secrets, Lambert.” Kris crossed his arms and feigned indifference, sitting back down on the piano bench. “I shall have to work them out of you bit by bit.”“And how do you suppose to do that?” Adam quirked a brow at his lover. This was certainly an improvement over his prior mood. He’d known that Kristopher wasn’t angry with him, not really, but the stress of their situation had gotten the better of both of them. In spite of his confidence in Kristopher’s love for him, Adam had been afraid that perhaps he would find the way forward too difficult.

Those fears were allayed as Kris pressed his lips together in a satisfied grin and slowly ran his hand up Adam’s thigh, pushing his nightshirt up to expose the top of Adam’s leg.  Kristopher continued to slide his hand northward as he leaned in, delicately pressing his lips to the sensitive line where Adam’s leg met the rest of his body. Adam gasped as the soft kiss turned to a sharp little bite. Adam felt himself stiffen, the response impossible to hide beneath the loose fabric of the shirt which had only been barely covering him at any rate. Kristopher began pushing up the opposite side of the shirt, bringing it even across his stomach. Adam couldn’t think for the sensation of gentle, wet lips moving ever closer to his prick; kisses punctuated with teeth. Adam moved his hand to thread through Kristopher’s too-long hair as his warm cheek brushed against Adam’s length. Kris grasped his hips and pushed him back a step, giving himself room to slide to the floor in front of the bench.




“Remember when I begged to get on my knees for you? The last time we were together here?” Kris’s voice was thick and so dark it seemed to swallow up the light from the surrounding candles.

“How could I forget? It was all I had to sustain me while you were gone.” Adam barely managed to finish his sentence before Kristopher blew lightly against his skin. They had exchanged favours before, certainly, and though new to the task Kris displayed a proficiency that bespoke many hours of fanaticising.

“Shall I take it for granted that this time, you’ll let me?”  Kristopher asked, looking up at Adam with wide, eager eyes. It was all Adam could do to prevent himself from thrusting hard between those slightly parted lips to claim the delight he knew they held. He clamped his jaw tight and nodded, pulling Kristopher’s hair a little to encourage him. “Are you sure you want it this time?” Kristopher teased, allowing his lips to graze the very tip of Adam’s cock, setting off dozens of little sparks beneath Adam’s skin on contact.

“Take me in your mouth.”

Kristopher shut his eyes slowly and opened his mouth, sliding forward so that Adam’s prick lay just inside against his tongue. Adam shuddered as his hips twitched forward against Kris’s hands, eager for the slick slide of his tongue. Kris obliged him, closing his mouth around Adam and sighing against him before beginning to move his head. Adam felt his knees buckle a bit as Kristopher held his tongue stiff along the underside of his cock as he pulled away and relaxed it as he pushed on again. To catch his balance, Adam leaned forward, resting his hand on the piano. Kris accommodated his movement, tilting his head back on the bench and bringing a hand down behind him. Adam moaned loudly as Kristopher opened his mouth wide, letting him press deeper into his throat. Adam lost his mind, thrusting with abandon between Kristopher’s willing lips and relishing the little whimpers of satisfaction that buzzed against his skin. It seemed to Adam that his entire world was shrinking, being drawn inward by the sweetness of Kristopher’s labouring tongue.

“If I spill inside your mouth,” Adam whispered, barely able to keep his voice contained, “will you drink it?”

He felt Kris nod around him and squeezed his eyes shut as his crisis came. Adam shuddered as Kris swallowed, lost as the pleasure spiked and receded over and over again in time with the flick of Kris’s tongue against his length. He withdrew at last, and Kris wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand.

“I trust it was satisfactory?” Kristopher asked him, red lips pulling sideways into a smirk.  The expression was too much for Adam. He fell to his knees, gathering Kris to him and kissing those much abused lips gently.

“Of all the times I envisioned this, none of my fevered imaginings could come close to the truth of it.” Adam panted, breaking free from Kris’s mouth. He couldn’t keep himself from immediately claiming it again after speaking, biting the swollen flesh and pushing his tongue inside roughly. Adam licked deeply, tasting himself in the kiss. He pulled Kris up so that they knelt upright instead of resting on their heels, and gasped into Kris’s mouth as Kris’s erection pressed into his belly.

“I would do anything for this,” Kris moaned, more to himself than to Adam. He cried out again, wordless and wanton; grinding against Adam and throwing his head back so that Adam might kiss his neck.  Adam could only oblige him. “Anything you’d ask of me.” Adam began to regret that he’d finished so soon. Kristopher was clearly in a mood and Adam was in no condition to perform again so soon. Although....it had been awhile since Adam had given his last favour, years in fact. During their nights together, Kristopher hadn’t shown any interest in assuming the traditionally male aspect of their coupling.  It suited Adam just fine, generally, but after the days events and doubts he felt like it might be just the thing.

“Come to bed with me,” Adam entreated, pulling back a bit. “There _is_ something I would ask of you.”

***

Kristopher gasped as he slid between Adam’s thighs, body slick with oil and sweat. He ran his hands down Adam’s impossibly long back and brought them to rest on his hips.

“Take me.”

Adam’s soft entreatment came as a prayer, earnest and devout. Kris couldn’t bear to deny him, though his pulse was racing.  He’d been curious, these few weeks, but it had been easier to give himself over. It felt natural to him to have Adam twixt his legs, working inside him, and part of Kris had taken an odd sense of pride that he could bring Adam so much pleasure. That Adam had waited for him, pined for him, and now could possess him whenever he desired. It felt good, Adam’s thick cock shoved deep, and Kris loved arching his back to take it deeper still so that Adam would tremble and spend inside him.

For a moment Kris wished he could trade places with Adam, feeling all at once very empty and desperate to be filled and yet he could not ignore Adam’s wishes, nor could he truthfully say he hadn’t wanted to try to give Adam the same sort of pleasure that Adam gave him.

He took a deep breath and held it tight in his chest as he guided his cock forward into Adam’s entrance, exhaling slowly as Adam relaxed around him. It felt delightful, and Kris pushed a little harder. Adam whimpered a little and Kristopher froze.

“All right, love?” He asked, voice strained as everything inside him protested against the sudden stillness of his muscles.

“Break me open, Kristopher.” Adam begged, his words in stark contrast with the apprehension in his voice. “Let me feel you.”

Kris resumed his motion, trying to go slowly so as not to hurt Adam, who had been so gentle with him.

“Faster, Kris, you’re killing me.” Adam panted, suddenly pressing back onto Kris’s length and crying out at the same time. Kristopher’s composure and restraint suddenly vanished and instinct took over. There was something primal in this, Kris decided as his hips moved, seemingly of their own volition. He didn’t have to think about how to position himself or his pace or how Adam reacted. They simply burned together, Adam’s body the conduit for his energies.  Adam no longer sounded pained; instead he threw his head back and tilted his arse up shamelessly, wordlessly begging for Kris to ride him harder. Kristopher slid one of his hands back up Adam’s spine, grasping one of his shoulders and grunting as Adam reacted to the slight change in angle. It was as though he could feel every shift in Adam’s body, as though he could feel the sheets that were bunched between Adam’s fingers.  Adam shoved his head into the pillows, muffling his shout and spreading his legs even wider as Kris pounded into him relentlessly as the fire coiled deep within his belly, burning him from the inside out. The world slowed as his muscles twitched, body almost incapable of carrying him the rest of the way towards his shining moment. Suddenly Adam squeezed him, his tight hole constricting over and over again and Kris was lost in the white light that seemed to explode behind his eyes. He spilled into Adam, the shout catching in his throat before it escaped his lips.  Kris froze, emptying himself completely into his lover’s body and enjoying how Adam trembled beneath him. He withdrew at last, and Adam rolled over so that Kris could collapse against his chest.

“I needed that an indescribable amount,” Adam mumbled into Kris’s hair. “Sometimes I just...”

“I needed it too” Kris assured him, kissing Adam’s clammy chest. “I didn’t realise how different it was. I didn’t realise it was something I needed.”

“I’d not have you as a wife, you know,” Adam said, stroking his back. “Earlier, when you worried about money and what the future might hold... you must know that I see you as an equal. In many ways you are a better man than I could ever be.”

Kris had known that Adam respected him, but hearing him say it aloud sent a warm rush into his chest and set a lump in his throat.

“Some men,” Adam continued, “Some men in my position keep their lovers like one would keep a pet. I want you to know that’s not what I want for us.”

“I am glad, though I never really feared that was your desire,” Kris said when he could finally speak. “Though I would not compare the two of us and say which is the better man. We’re far too different for any such comparisons. We complement each other, I think, and though we are different I trust we will find the way forward together.”

“We shall.” Adam promised, and raised Kris’s face to his for a kiss. It was a lazy affair, lips tired from their earlier exertions. “Though if I must confess a preference, I do hope you didn’t enjoy yourself so much that you never wish to return to our usual arrangement.”

“Oh, t’was a very satisfactory experiment, but if you think you’re going to lay there every night while I plough you like a field you are sadly mistaken.”

“It’s decided then. Tomorrow night I shall resume pounding your arse into the hereafter,” Adam said, rolling them onto their sides so that they might sleep more comfortably.

“Jolly good.” Kris tucked himself beneath Adam’s arm, feeling as content as he had felt upset earlier in the evening. “Though must we wait till tomorrow night?

“You’re insatiable,” Adam kissed him on the back of the neck, “and don’t I love you for it.”

“You had better. I’m afraid you’re rather stuck with me now.” Kristopher closed his eyes, feeling Adam’s breath against his neck.

“Do you mean it?” Adam asked. “No matter where we end up?”

“Silly,” Kris exhaled and drifted off to sleep.

 

                                                                                                          ***

 

ADAM signed the document and pushed it over to Neil, who looked it over and sighed.

“I’d be a fool not to accept this offer, brother, but I would be lying if I said I wished you’d never made it.”

“It won’t be so bad. We’d be home in time for Christmas every year, and stay till Easter. At any rate, Kristopher still needs to sign it. It won’t be a done deal unless he agrees.” Adam ran his hand through his hair nervously as Neil lifted the quill pen and scrawled his signature.

“Katherine won’t like it. She’s grown terribly fond of you. We’re you not such a molly I’d worry. Yeaaaaooww!” Neil shrieked as Adam yanked a glass paperweight off their father’s desk and sent it sailing into Neil’s chest. “Blast it, I’m a wounded veteran. I should have you strung up on charges.”

“I ought to string you up right here and now.” Adam threatened, jumping up to grind his knuckles into Neil’s curly hair.

“Mary said you wanted to see me?” Kristopher called from the door, grinning at the two bothers caught mid-shenanigans. “Am I supposed to choose a side?” Adam returned his smile and gestured for him to sit down.

“Actually,” Neil cleared his throat, “Actually we have some business to discuss.”

Adam sat down on his chair again, having satisfactorily pummelled his younger brother. He’d been eager to discuss this proposition with Kristopher, but didn’t want to raise his hopes if such a venture were not possible.

“As you might be aware, our business is shipping. My grandfather started transporting goods back and forth from the Americas and, in spite of wars and privateers, it’s worked out rather well for us.”

“I’d agree.” Kristopher said, glancing out the side of his eyes towards the well manicured back garden.

“Adam and I have been talking about expanding our trade routes further north, but after some unpleasantness with our man-of-business in Maryland, we need to refocus our energies on maintaining our foothold there. With many of our employees signing on to the Navy, and with a few of our ships being commandeered by the war effort, we’re trying to rebuild.”

“I see,” Kris said, in a manner than clearly indicated he didn’t.

“I’d like to see to that aspect of the business myself. Personally. The thing is, it’s far too large an entity for one man to run, as capable as I _may _be.”

“His capabilities _are_ almost purely theoretical.” Neil informed Kris, making Adam want to slug him but they were talking business at present. “So I would very much appreciate your assistance.”

Kris stared at both of them, looking from Adam to Neil and back to Adam again as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what was being said.

“We want to make you a partner,” Neil explained, “and we want you to move with Adam to Maryland. That’s across the ocean. You know, Big Blue Watery Thing way over there.” He gestured west, waving his hand. “In America. You might have heard of it. There was some recent unpleasantness in the form of a bloody big war we lost.”

“Neil, he isn’t a simpleton.” Adam rolled his eyes, trying to shush Neil with derisive looks. “It wouldn’t be for always, Kristopher, and not even for the entire year. We’d come home in November and stay through till March. Not much in the way of farming that time of year so there isn’t much to ship...” Adam realized that he was running on at the mouth, and stopped talking in the hopes that Kristopher would react. “I know it isn’t ideal, Kristopher, and I told you that you might not like what I had in mind-“

Kris burst out laughing, and Adam felt his hopes sink into his stomach. Sure, he hadn’t been crazy about the idea at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he had been looking forward to the adventure. In truth, he had envied Neil somewhat, getting to go off with Kristopher into the great unknown.

“Well you needn’t laugh if you don’t want to go,” Adam said, feeling sheepish, but Kristopher jumped up from his chair and embraced him.

“When do we leave?” Kris asked, “After March?” Adam nodded, and Kris continued. “I didn’t mean to laugh, but I’m a little confused as to what you think I can do to help you run a business.”

“Oh, we’ll muddle through together. Besides, you can figure and you speak Latin and you’re easy to like and –“

“Basically, Allen, you’re as qualified as we are. This is a family business, and you’re family.” Neil explained. “Also, it establishes the two of you as having a business relationship, which will make any cohabitation arrangements less suspect in the colonies, and any social engagements in England a mutual invitation.”

“It seems too good to be true.” Kris said, eyes shining up at Adam, who was overwhelmed with the desire to lift him up in excitement. “We can make a fresh start of it.”

“It will be a lot of work, and a dangerous journey, and not to mention the indignity of having to live in some bug-ridden hovel. It’s my understanding that all the colonists live in bug-ridden hovels.” Neil interjected, and Adam swatted him again, connecting with a resounding slap that set them all laughing so loud that momentarily Katherine joined them to see what all the commotion was about. She soon was giggling at their boyish antics as well. It seemed to Adam that Heathwick hadn't been so full of joy in years, and the thought made him feel warm. It was home again, really and truely.

                                                                                                     ***

IN THE end, it was Heathwick that had brought them together, so it was with a heavy heart that Kristopher Allen left the great house in North Gate.  Adam had assured him that they would be back before he could even miss it, but Kris could tell he was putting on a bit of a brave face.

He was eagerly awaiting the journey over the Atlantic. Adam had made favourable travelling arrangements – he’d commissioned space aboard the Indefatigable on their first run to Kingston and from there they would book passage to Maryland and take possession of a small house and office that the Lambert’s owned on the Chesapeake Bay. It would be a joy to spend the fortnight’s travel time with their dear friends Horatio and Archie, who had already written that Horatio was quite cross at being put out of his hard-earned Lieutenant’s cabin by a bunch of landlubbers and expatriates both.

As for Katherine and Neil, they were expecting again by the time Kristopher and Adam had left Heathwick. Little Neil was just beginning to sit up on his own and already his father was talking about making a proper soldier out of him when he grew up. However, with his bright eyes and shock of copper hair, Kristopher wondered if he would turn out more like his uncle than his father.  Katherine was sad that she would be so often alone in the large house, and sent for her sisters to take over the guest quarters. Kristopher had embraced both she and Neil upon his departure, propriety be damned.

Kristopher and Adam stopped in Biggleswade on their way to Portsmouth to say their goodbyes to Kris’s family. His mother and father were accepting of their son’s new lot in life, though Kristopher knew that his mother would be praying for November to come swiftly. She promised that she and her husband Neil – Kris’s life was positively riddled with Neils now – would come visit them in America, though Kris just kissed her head and told her not to be foolish and that they would be back before she could even miss them, but his brave face was not as convincing as Adam’s, particularly when challenged by his mother’s tears. His brother had taken him aside to ask a few uncomfortable questions about he and Adam’s private matters, which Kristopher endeavoured to answer with all possible delicacy. Curiosity sated, Daniel slugged him on the arm and told him to be a good wife, as Adam was one bloody fine gentleman. Kris took that as approval.

They made a brief stop in London too, to give their best to Bradley and a few other friends they had made in old blighty. Kristopher even used a little of his savings to fund a theatrical venture of Bradley’s, who firmly promised to repay his investment and send him a review. Adam was quite taken with the gesture of friendship that Kris had shown to Bradley.  It was no great hardship for Kris, and something he did quite gladly, for without Bradley he might still be in Spain, never mind that Bradley had tried his level best to woo Adam away while Kris had been in prison. Personally, Kristopher couldn’t find any fault with his actions – had he been faced with Adam so close and yet unattainable, Kris would have done his level best to win him.

With all their affairs sorted, Kris and Adam were as ready for their voyage as any men could possibly be and more eager for their future than most men were. Truly, life had never looked quite so bright. As their carriage pulled away from London, the bells of St Paul’s Cathedral chimed out the end of another day, and Adam smiled down at Kristopher. There was music in the air and it bound them together, sending them forth to face the new world as one.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
